Unnatural Disaster: A Tom Riddle Story
by SilentWanderlust
Summary: The key to Tom Riddle's future is time and information. Hattie Selwyn has both, but neither she'll easily give. When Dumbledore requests Hattie use her family's time turner to head off Tom in his plans, she is caught between her late mother's wishes and her personal moral compass.
1. Hattie Selwyn

September 2, 1941

The world spun before Hattie Selwyn crashed onto the chilly floor. She grasped for breath and clutched desperately at her chest. Her heart raced and sweat prickled her eyes. As the dizziness subsided, Hattie stowed the family time-turner in her robes, ensuring the gilt chain was fully submerged in her blouse.

Damn her mother for never showing her how to work the dastardly contraption. Hattie hadn't even moved far in time. Just a few measly hours sent Hattie into a tailspin. Her mother had always described time travel as a simple spin of the dial. Not the stomach churning, migraine-inducing frenzy she'd experienced over the last few weeks.

Hattie groaned and propped herself on her elbows only to be thrust back onto the stone floor.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing on the ground," a high pitched voice rang through the corridor. Vera Ogden dug her heel into Hattie's ribcage, constricting her range of movement.

A flash of fury crossed Hattie's face. She hastily assessed her situation. She couldn't retrieve her wand with Ogden's nasty feet on her chest. Vera readjusted her shoe for a better hold and Hattie made her move; a quick roll onto her stomach sent Vera stumbling forward over Hattie.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing tripping over yourself?" Hattie mocked as she whipped her wand from her robe pocket. She was up before Ogden centered herself.

"Expelliarmus," Hattie whispered. Ogden's wand soared through the air and Hattie snatched it, interrupting its flight path. She twirled it between her fingers, admiring the craftsmanship before heaving it directly at Ogden.

Vera fumbled to recover her wand, shrieking obscenities as she went. She looked around desperately for anybody who had seen what Hattie had just done. But as per usual, nobody witnessed anything. Clearly she needed to find better moments to harass Selwyn.

Hattie turned on her heel and stormed in the other direction. At least she'd have a reason to send her to the hospital wing if Ogden cursed her from behind.

Hattie clenched her fists, suppressing the urge to punch the portraits eyeing her suspiciously. The dizziness subsided but the nausea remained causing Hattie to wobble drunkenly through the halls.

"We saw that, young lady," a portly woman chided from inside a particularly gaudy portrait of a feast. Her comrades nodded in agreement.

"What are you going to do about it?" Hattie huffed. "Go running to Dippet? Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

The affronted woman whispered to her portrait mates before returning to their meal.

As the horrendous sound of Vera's cries subsided, Hattie slipped into a deserted classroom. The gentle morning sun flooded the room. Dust floated serenely through the strips of light streaming in through the windows.

Her mother had passed exactly three weeks prior and she already couldn't do the one thing she had asked of Hattie.

Returning to school had been a non-negotiable but left minimal time to grieve. Students either pitied her or didn't care. Hattie ceaselessly debated which was worse.

She eyed a three-legged chair and dug her nails into the wood back before heaving it across the room.

It crashed into the professor's desk with a clang that reverberated through the deserted halls.

Hattie stumbled to a corner and slid down the wall with her head in her hands. Her breath haggard and stomach churning, she dropped her head between her knees.

The weight of the time-turner lingered heavy against her heart.


	2. The Perfect Prefect

September 1, 1942

Hattie dragged her trunk down the overcrowded walkway to the Hogwarts Express. Her prefect badge glistened, shiny and new against her Slytherin robes.

She'd stayed the summer holiday in France with her Aunt and Uncle. Both relatives worked which gave Hattie free range to go wherever and whenever she pleased. Hattie made weekly trips into the coming years, pushing her limits as far as she could handle. Because of her accelerated schedule, she was constantly ill and her Aunt threatened more than once to send her to St. Mungo's.

A pepperup potion did nothing but linger in her stomach, revitalizing the waves of nausea and dizzy spells.

The week before vacation's end, Hattie's Aunt and Uncle reached their wit's end. They unceremoniously hauled her to St. Mungo's. Hattie would have put up a stronger fight but at the time, her vision was so blurred she saw six people instead of two.

The healers were flummoxed. Of course they were, they'd never seen anything like Hattie's case.

When her symptoms subsided she was released to return to Hogwarts.

On the platform, Hattie's Aunt fussed over her pale skin and sunken eyes but she brushed it away.

As Hattie climbed the steps, she vowed to either find a remedy or lengthen the time between her trips.

There was no feasible way to handle her O.W.L.S and other responsibilities while sick each weekend.

As she turned to wave goodbye, her family looked sullen and exhausted. Sometimes Hattie forgot that it wasn't just her that lost a mother, her Aunt lost her twin sister and was stuck raising the broken teenager she left behind.

Hopefully this year Dippet wouldn't write home about her inappropriate outbursts. They were worried enough about her as it was.

"You harlot," Charlotte Prewett smacked Hattie's arm playfully. "You didn't tell me you got prefect."

"It slipped my mind," Hattie tossed her trunk in the overhead bin in a compartment near the end of the train.

The shock was palpable at the arrival of Hattie's Hogwarts letter with the prefect badge. She had assumed her behavior the previous year had disqualified her for the position.

Hattie flopped down casually across from Charlotte. "Where are Andrew and Ada?"

"Don't change the subject," Charlotte pulled a potions textbook from her messenger bag and opened to a dog-eared page. With a quick glance at the door, she continued, a devilish grin on her face. "Care to tell me who the male prefect is?"

"Don't play coy, you know the an-" Hattie started as the compartment door flew open.

A tall, pale boy stood still as a statue looking directly at Hattie. Every muscle in his face was relaxed and his eyes were unnaturally empty. A chill raced down Hattie's spine. She crossed her legs and turned as nonchalantly as she could muster to Tom Riddle.

"Any reason you're disturbing our peace, Riddle?"

Charlotte sighed before collecting herself and diving into her book. Hattie refrained from rolling her eyes at her friend. Charlotte was a long time Tom Riddle admirer. Too many people were in Hattie's opinion.

Hattie took in his form. He'd grown over the summer holiday. He'd gotten taller, and paler somehow. She hadn't thought it possible. Tom's prefect badge was also infuriatingly shinier than hers. He just had to be the best at everything, didn't he?

Tom cocked his head and a charming smile overwhelmed his handsome features.

He'd seen her eyes trail over him.

"Don't be late to the prefect meeting, Ms. Selwyn," Riddle drawled, "I don't like to be kept waiting."

It sounded too similar to a warning for comfort. More than once, Hattie had almost been caught by Riddle on her escapades.

He was bloody everywhere.

She had made it a year with no one knowing, but more time with Riddle was on the horizon and she intended to keep him out of her way enough to keep working.

Hattie scoffed, "I'll ensure I'm a minute late for every second longer you stand in that doorway."

A couple seconds of contemplation passed between the pair, as if they were sizing up the other. They hadn't spent much time with one another previously. If they weren't competing in class, they were ignoring each other while they studied in the library.

Charlotte looked from Tom to Hattie, suppressing a small smile. They were always like this when they interacted and it was utterly amusing.

The side of Tom's mouth twitched. "I see you still have no control of your tongue." His hands were clasped tight behind his back as he looked down his nose at them.

"How perceptive but I have more control than you think, Riddle." Hattie's wand hand itched at her side.

His soft chuckle chilled the room.

Tom knew there had been something off about Hattie Selwyn from the start, but after her mother's untimely death a year previous, she had gotten exponentially more interesting.

Her tongue was sharper and her temper more volatile.

She was also clearly less impressed with him than their schoolmates. Tom wasn't accustomed to peers refusing to back down from his domineering stare.

Tom couldn't pinpoint what was occurring with Selwyn, but he would figure it out. He knew all about her oddly timed outbursts and sudden disappearances last year, even the ones he didn't witness himself.

Having eyes everywhere proved useful in times like these. He could learn anything with his sympathetic ear and charming smile.

"Half an hour, Ms. Selwyn." Riddle nodded to Charlotte who burned red under his stare. His gaze lingered on Hattie once more before he silently shut the door.

Charlotte stared at Hattie wide eyed and open mouthed.

"Don't you even start," Hattie waved Charlotte away as Ada and Andrew Bellchant slipped into the compartment.

* * *

Ada, Charlotte, and Hattie chatted while Andrew looked anxiously out into the corridor every few minutes. He fiddled with his robes and feigning interest in the array of candy on his seat.

Hattie pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and scribbled a note to Ada, nearly toppling the ink bottle at her side.

 _What's got his wand in a knot?_

Shock flashed across Ada's face before smiling and snatching the quill from Hattie's grip.

 _I think he's seeing someone. He's waiting for them._

Hattie read the note, "A Gryffindor?" she whispered as Andrew craned his neck for a better look at the passersby.

"Most likely," Ada shrugged off the comments about her brother and continued a conversation with Charlotte about their respective family trips.

Hattie begrudgingly left her friends thirty minutes later.

As much as she would revel in infuriating Riddle, she needed a good first impression with her fellow prefects, especially after the previous year.

The halls were overwhelmed with people greeting one another after the extended holiday. Hattie moved gracefully through the crown until running directly into Abraxas Malfoy. He'd stepped heavy footed into the corridor.

Hattie rolled her eyes and pushed past as he spewed a few choice insults.

The prefect meeting was inconveniently placed at the very front of the train. It was minimally more peaceful than the midsection of the train. Lack of bodies made for a chillier trek through the train.

Hattie wrapped her cloak tightly around herself as she peeked through the curtains of the compartment.

 _Great_.

Only one person was present as of yet.

"I see you decided to arrive on time," Tom removed his textbooks at his side and leaned back in his seat. His eyes bore into Hattie, willing her to sit dutifully by his side as his fellow Slytherin prefect.

The otherworldly blankness of his stare drove Hattie's heart rate higher. Her fight or flight instincts flashed a predator warning but she smothered it with a soothing breath.

Tom caught her pause and smirked.

Of course he'd noticed, Hattie cringed. No matter what, she refused to be one of his many lapdogs.

"Again," Hattie scoffed. "You're exceptionally perceptive. No wonder you're just behind me in class rankings. Why not try harder this term? I do enjoy a challenge."

He gazed slowly from the spot beside him to Hattie' chosen seat.

With a slight shake of his head he placed the textbooks back in place and watched Hattie look anywhere but his direction.

The air in the room was crushing.

Hattie's bones ached. Tom's stare persisted but she refused to show weakness. Anything she let slip could and would be repurposed and used against her.

Why did he have to be this way with her? He was a quiet, charming boy with everybody else. What about her set him off? Hattie had barely ever spoken with the man.

It was precisely this that made him so irrevocable dangerous. Nobody would ever believe Tom Riddle had been anything but a perfect gentlemen. He could do and say anything in her presence and it could never be repeated for fear of looking like a lowly gossip.

Hattie was at least above that.

Charlotte had seen glimpses a half hour previous, but swore on her wand that Riddle was simply shy and flirtatious.

Hattie knew better. Riddle was never vulnerable. Every move, every word, and every action was calculated. Nobody was as perfect as Riddle. And nobody ever would be. It was an excellent and risky maneuver and Hattie wondered if he spoke to his followers how he spoke to her.

"I seem to recall a very different state of events." Tom's voice was nary more than a whisper that amplified in the cramped space.

Hattie's head snapped back to Riddle, "Perhaps you should get your head checked at the hospital wing."

Riddle leaned forward and placed his arms on his knees. This time Hattie hadn't looked away.

"Perhaps," Tom growled, "You should keep your nose out of issues that don't concern you."

Something seemed to click in Riddle's eyes and his lips played at a smile as he leaned back, challenging her.

Hattie straightened her spine and cocked her head, giving him an exaggerated display, as if trying to figure him out.

They both knew better than to believe that, though.

A surge of cold air broke their concentration as blue cloaks entered.

Tom reverted into his pleasant self as the Ravenclaw prefects entered the compartment. Ruth Davis repositioned Tom's books to sit scandalously close to him. She flashed him a toothy grin and he responded with a whisper in her ear. She giggled and blushed before her attention was pulled by the rest of the prefects flooding the room.

Tom smirked at Hattie before gazing out the window, bored with the current state of affairs.

Hattie's pulse shuttered against her neck. Riddle wanted to be in control of everything and Hattie just happened to have one very interesting way of ensuring he didn't have the upper hand against her.

Her mother always warned against making their work personal, but there was something unnerving about Riddle.

But her mother had also imprinted that Hattie should keep an eye on anything she deemed interesting. And Riddle was fascinating.

Hattie considered why she had never encountered Riddle in her travels. Admittedly, she hadn't been traveling for long. But charming, persuasive, handsome Tom Riddle was nowhere in anything she had seen. What would he be up to in five years, maybe ten?

Where did he go?

Hattie shook her head and ran her hands over her eyes. She couldn't fixate on a single person. That was a recipe for disaster and distraction. She wouldn't give Riddle the power to distract her from fulfilling her mother's wishes.

The hair on the back of Hattie's neck prickled and her eyes refocused in front of her. Riddle's eyes were on her again and there was a mischievous glint in his blue eyes..

She glowered which seemed to please him more.

Hattie wanted to scream; there was clearly no winning with him.

* * *

Hattie clapped politely as the sorting ceremony concluded. She had _Advanced Defensive Spells_ propped on one knee and watched the front of the room from the corner of her eye.

Tom sat at the very end of the Slytherin table, surrounded by some of his most avid admirers. They looked deep in conversation, hanging on Tom's every word.

Did Riddle speak to them the same way he spoke to her or did he charm their pants off?

"So how did it go with Tom on the train?" Charlotte leaned across the table and pulled the book from Hattie's gentle grip.

Ada covered her face with her hands, "You don't need to say it that loudly." She was exhausted with Charlotte's Riddle obsession.

A few of the surrounding students tuned into the conversation at the mention of Tom's name. One being Vera.

Hattie flushed slightly and glared at Charlotte who's face dropped to her plate, not wanting to catch Vera's wrath.

Hattie would have a conversation with her later about shutting her mouth around Vera.

"Like you would have anything to say to Tom," Vera played with the food on her plate, reveling in the sniggers of a few younger Slytherin girls around her. She had developed quite a following the last few years. One to rival Tom's if Vera did say so herself.

And she did. Often.

"I'll let you know since clearly you've gone blind," Hattie spat, "We're both prefects so we'll be spending quite a lot of time together. _Alone_."

Vera sobered at the intonation of the last word. She pushed out her bench in a huff and shoved her way through the crowds of students to sit right next to Tom.

Vera's posse bounced with energy, pushing on each other's shoulders for a better look at the other side of the table.

Tom looked up at Vera with slight interest as she pushed Abraxas Malfoy to the side to take the seat directly beside him. Malfoy tumbled into Avery who shoved him away with a look of pure loathing.

"She's jealous," Ada crossed her arms, "Don't concern yourself over it."

"I wasn't planning on it." Hattie yawned, "I have no reason to care."

"Hear that girls," Ada leaned over to the young Vera admirers and flicked peas in their direction, "You're little queen is jealous of Hattie and Tom. Disappointing, isn't it?"

Hattie dropped her head to the table. More people were staring now, including Tom.

The younger Slytherins grimaced, wiping squished peas from their pristine robes. They whispered amongst themselves and suddenly were all smiles and giggles. Fingers ran through their hair and they sat up straighter.

Suddenly, benches scraped against the floor as students rushed out of the Great Hall towards their common rooms.

Hattie raised her head and held out her arm, motioning for Charlotte to return her book.

As it passed across the table a hand shot out from behind Hattie and snatched it.

Ice crept through Hattie's blood as she turned to Tom standing behind her, perusing her book.

"This is quite," Tom contemplated his answer, "fascinating." He licked his finger and flipped through the pages, glancing over each one.

Hattie stood to pluck the book from Tom's hands but he was faster. He closed the book in her face and strolled out of the Great Hall.


	3. An Unlikely Task

Hattie navigated through the throngs of students before Ada or Charlotte could call out to stop her. Nothing would have deterred her from finding Riddle.

Students rushed every which way like minnows fleeing from a shark desperate to consume them. Gleeful chatter and unreserved laughter ignited the air. It was colder here than in the Great Hall where the suspended candles gave off a welcoming warmth, illuminating the sprawling tables overwhelmed with hearty food and delicious desserts.

First years huddled in small groups, cautiously taking in the raucous surrounding them. They tugged at their unkempt uniforms, unsure of the proper way to wear them. Prefects called out to their newest housemates and beckoned for them to follow. A particularly enthusiastic Hufflepuff prefect hugged her first years and rattled on about the exciting things they would discover during their seven years at Hogwarts.

Hattie waded through the pools of people, unintentionally knocking a gaggle of third year Ravenclaws out of the way.

"Honestly, Riddle?" Hattie panted as she moved through the entrance hall, searching wildly for the imposing, pale figure. Not only did he steal her book, which she needed for her next travel, they were supposed to escort the first year Slytherins to the dormitory. She refused to be shown up by a gangly Hufflepuff desperate to make a good impression.

Tom lazed against the far wall flipping through her book, seemingly unaware of the commotion around him. His composure was a stark contrast to the chaos of reunited friends and school year nerves. He was wholly unaffected by the fanfare. Tom was the island rooted in place no matter the current threatening to engulf him.

Hattie locked eyes on her target. She stomped directly in front of him and ripped the book from his long fingers. Paper flew as she threw open her bag and tossed the book inside haphazardly.

She was ill prepared to handle his attitude that night. She examined him with stern, discerning eyes. Regal wouldn't do justice to his stature and disposition. His pin straight posture and unrehearsed casual demeanor likened him to a predator stalking their prey; a wolf among sheep.

"Temper, temper," Riddle chided. "What will impressionable first years think about their prefect harassing a fellow student?" He stepped in close to Hattie and gripped her wrists when she tried to step back. The force dragged her towards him and he looked directly down at her.

He studied the deep angles of her cheekbones that lent well to her developing blush. There was something fascinating about her defiant stare. Hattie Selwyn looked back at him like he was guilty of every crime in the world and was unafraid to lock him away for them forever.

"Let me go," Hattie commanded, struggling against his iron grip. His hands were surprisingly warm against her wrists. She attempted kicking him but Tom entangled his ankle with hers, securing her in place.

People were so preoccupied with their friends, nobody noticed the goings on in the corner of the entrance hall between the two Slytherin prefects. And if they had noticed, it appeared more compromising than it really was, Hattie thought.

It wasn't uncommon for students to sneak around, but the entrance hall was not on Hattie's top five rendezvous locations.

"Not until you tell me one thing," Riddle leaned in to whisper in her ear, "What ar-"

"Ms. Selwyn, Mr. Riddle," A gentle voice called. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything too important."

Albus Dumbledore stepped out from behind the main staircase.

Hattie sighed in relief at the sudden appearance of her Transfiguration professor. He had always been her favorite teacher by far. Slughorn was bearable in class but the Slug Club meetings he insisted she attend were pompous and an objective waste of time. But Professor Windfell, the divination professor was her least favored. She was invariably focused on Hattie's "natural affinity for divination." At best Hattie would get a good grade, at worst, she could be found out by giving anything remotely accurate away.

"Of course not, sir," Riddle dropped his grip on Hattie and turned to Dumbledore. Any hint of emotion had disappeared. "I was just speaking with Ms. Selwyn about prefect duties."

Tom glanced surreptitiously at Hattie, daring her to contradict him. His gaze was captivating like a starry night obscured by rolling rain clouds and crackles of lightning.

She shivered under his gaze and blinked her discomfort away. Something about Tom Riddle compelled her to engage. His attention was spellbinding as if you were the only thing that mattered when he readily gave his attention. But Hattie understood most importantly of all, it was an act.

Dumbledore waited patiently, looking around the hall at the surrounding paintings. Smiling and waving at few choice portraits. The paintings all waved in tandem and moved among themselves to get a word in with the professor.

He nodded with a twinkle in his eye before returning his attention to Hattie and Tom.

The hall was quiet. Students had meandered in all different directions and dispersed to their dormitories. Dumbledore's voice seemed to echo off the walls and fill the space.

"Now," Dumbledore smiled back at his students, "I would like a word with you, Ms. Selwyn, if you're not preoccupied."

Hattie opened her mouth to protest but Tom stepped slightly in front of her and spoke before she could muster a word. It wasn't a protective gesture in Hattie's mind, it was possessive. What game was Riddle playing?

"I'll escort the first years to the dormitory, sir," Tom donned a pleasant smile and with a final look at Hattie, turned away slowly with his hands clasped behind his back.

The Slytherin first years congregated at the entrance of the Great Hall. They chatted and peered around, searching for their very own overly excited prefect.

As Tom made his way over, the first year girls eyed him and whispered excitedly to each other.

Hattie rolled her eyes at their obscene lack of tact. They were just as bad as Charlotte.

Suddenly, Hattie's heart beat against her ribs as her head prickled. As if somebody was pricking her with a barrage of needles. Her mind was suddenly a crudely build door, waiting to be smashed to bits by an intruder.

She'd only experienced this once before.

Tom was attempting to break the barriers down in her mind. He was nearly succeeding even while facing the other direction.

Hattie hurriedly emptied her mind to the best of her ability and the tingling in her temple subsided. Generally her mind was moving a mile a minute and compartmentalizing was not her forte. She noted that in the future, should this happen again, she would try harder to catch it before it was too late. And who was she kidding? Of course it was to occur a second time. If Tom had gotten a hold on her without Dumbledore stepping in, she might not have been able to resist Riddle meddling in her mind.

That would undoubtedly ruin everything she'd worked towards. Somebody like Riddle with the information she had was dangerous. He would mold and twist it for his own gain. For Tom, words were clay and he was their sculptor.

Before Tom reentered the Great Hall to assemble the first years, he turned his head one last time to acknowledge Hattie. Making momentary eye contact, telling her he knew exactly what she'd just done.

"Ms. Selwyn," Dumbledore motioned up the stairs, "If you would join me in my office, please."

Hattie nodded and jogged to keep pace with Dumbledore's long strides. After hitting the second floor landing, she peered over the ledge, but Tom had long since disappeared.

"The first years will be fine with Tom, I'm sure," Dumbledore gave her a gentle smile and continued forward.

The halls were eerily silent in the academic wing. None of the liveliness from the first floor had transferred. A draft chilled Hattie to the bone as they progressed through the sprawling corridors. It reminded Hattie of her late night escapades the previous year. She would twist and weave masterfully through the maze of halls unseen, fighting against an ever present chill.

"Sir," Hattie inquired as they neared the Transfiguration classroom, "It won't be too long will it?"

Dumbledore chuckled as he stepped into his office, "No, I wouldn't want to keep you from your first round as prefect."

His office hadn't changed a lick. Sprawling volumes of ancient and modern texts alike decorated the walls. The bookshelves rose twenty feet in the air, reaching the curved ceiling. They then defied gravity as the bent onto the roof. Hattie admired the unnatural bookshelves and smiled.

A crackling fire burned merrily in the fireplace, emitting a gentle, dancing light. A pair of plump arm chairs were poised facing one another in front of the grate.

Instead, Hattie perched on the edge of the chair across from Dumbledore's desk. She dropped her bag on the floor, causing all her belongings to tumble down inside it. She silently cursed and rearranged them as neatly as possible before she was drawn away by Dumbledore's melodic voice.

"I don't wish to keep you long so I will jump straight to it," Dumbledore readjusted his glasses and pulled a piece of parchment from the corner of his desk. "This, Hattie, is why you are here."

He handed a tattered piece of parchment to Hattie who scanned the letter before crumpling it up in her fist. Her Aunt had written Dumbledore about Hattie's precarious situation at St. Mungo's.

"I didn't think they knew," Hattie's eyes welled with tears, "They never said anything."

What could possibly compel them to write Dumbledore instead of speaking to her directly? Did they believe she was unable to handle her work? The thought spurred a burning rage in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't their burden to carry. They had never participated in the family work and couldn't understand.

"They're more perceptive than you assume," Dumbledore offered Hattie a candy which she readily rejected, "Your Aunt and Uncle are very concerned that you're taking on your mother's work too - adamantly."

Hattie wiped her eyes with her jumper sleeve and recomposed herself. She wouldn't cry now. She had been caught red-handed and would surely be barred from continuing. If she wasn't expelled she might very well be tried for improper use of a time-turner.

There was a reason her family was so secretive about their work. Not only was it dangerous to meddle in the future, it was illegal to use any information they had for their own gain. And the Selwyn family was unequivocally guilty on that account.

She also doubted her time-turner was registered with the Ministry. Likely there were other family time-turners waiting to be discovered all over the world as well.

With a sigh Hattie pulled the time-turner from her neck and dropped it on Dumbledore's desk. It clattered against the wood and rolled towards Dumbledore. He delicately pulled it up by the chain and admired the minuscule hourglass.

"I don't know what to say, sir," Hattie looked up at Dumbledore who gently handed the time-turner back, "It's all my mother asked me to do. There was nothing else in the will besides the finances and the time-turner. She just wanted me to retain the records."

Dumbledore pressed the pads of his fingers together and eyed her over his half-moon spectacles.

"I'm not bringing this information to Headmaster Dippet if that is your concern," Dumbledore tapped his fingers together.

Hattie noted the wheels in his mind working as he examined her.

She shook her head. In what world would Dumbledore withhold this grave offense to Dippet. Her situation was clearly more dire than she anticipated.

"You're reporting this to the Ministry," Hattie stated, crestfallen. She'd miraculously been reckless for over a year without getting caught. It was a miracle it took someone this long to figure it out.

"No, I won't be doing that either," Dumbledore said.

Hattie braved a glance at Dumbledore and found a tepid smile that died before reaching eyes. Her next question was what exactly Dumbledore would do with the information, but he answered before she could inquire.

"I'm asking something of you," he tapped his fingers against his desk, thinking, "There have presumably been other people in your family document time, yes?"

Hattie nodded. If he wasn't reporting her to the school or the Ministry there wasn't any reason to needlessly lie to her favorite professor. But it felt wrong divulging her work to him. It was so intensely personal she felt like she was given away her first born.

"I won't keep you in suspense any longer," Dumbledore leaned forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. "What do you know about Tom Riddle?"

Something told Hattie Dumbledore was well aware of the law surrounding time-travel. Sharing any information was strictly forbidden and could land you a life sentence in Azkaban. It clicked for Hattie that Dumbledore must have an excellent reason to expressly break the law.

"Nothing, sir," Hattie wracked her brain for any mention of Riddle, "He's nowhere in anything that I've seen. Admittedly, I haven't gone through all the family archives searching for his name. They're stored all across the world. But with what I have seen personally, Tom doesn't seem to exist."

"I see," Dumbledore stood to pace toward his vast library.

Dusty, aging volumes suddenly flew from the shelves like heavy winged birds and landed neatly in front of Hattie. They left a prominent dust cloud in their wake, which Hattie swatted away from her eyes.

"You'll be needing these, I presume," Dumbledore motioned to the books organizing themselves the desk. "Now I must ask one more thing of you."

He turned to face Hattie who was now standing looking at the horrifying list of titles before her.

 _Foggy Fragments of the Future_

 _Unlawful Artifacts_

 _An Introduction to the Dark Arts_

Hattie's heart plummeted. He wanted her to read these? The _Dark Arts_ book looked like it would attack her if she opened it. The pages were dog eared and yellowing. A growl erupted from the book as Hattie moved to touch it. She yanked her hand back and shook it out like she'd been bitten.

"The task, sir?" Hattie stepped back from the books and closer to Dumbledore's protection. At least if the book moved for a second attack, he would be close enough to stop it.

"I need you to uncover everything you can about Tom Riddle." Dumbledore waved his hand over the books and they vanished. "Anything in his past, present, and future is vital."

"So I can keep working?" Hattie clutched the time-turner around her neck. It was chilly to the touch but reassuring nonetheless. She wouldn't have to give up her only tie left to her mother.

"Just as long as your promise me two things," Dumbledore's voice lowered and the lights in the room flickered at the intensity of his voice, "One, that you will never use this information for your own gain. And two, you will do whatever it takes to find out what Tom is doing and plans to do."

"What exactly does that entail, sir?" Hattie swallowed. Dumbledore suddenly seemed overbearing and powerful.

"Whatever it must," Dumbledore sat back down across the desk from Hattie, "You can access those books in the restricted section. I will let Madam Pince know not to shoo you away if you are working late into the night. Now, I won't keep you any longer. You're free to join Mr. Riddle for prefect duties."

Hattie would do whatever it took to keep the tradition alive, but 'whatever it must do' cradled innumerable possibilities. It was both a warming and promise of future strife.

She pulled her bag from the ground and hooked it on her shoulder. She moved to the door and turned around one last time before opening it.

"Professor," Hattie voice cracked through her whisper, "Is Tom dangerous?" It rolled off her tongue so easily she wished she could take it back. She covered her mouth and waited for a response. Most likely a negative one.

Dumbledore merely watched her as if to say, "you know the answer."

He pulled a stack of files from his right and began working, ignoring Hattie completely.


	4. Second in Command

Tom waited outside the prefect bathroom for Hattie to join him on their first night of rounds. He watched lazily as students moved past him, giving him a wide berth. A gaggle of girls headed toward the Gryffindor tower shuffled by and giggled when he looked their way.

It was so tragically poetic that he was universally loved and respected and felt nothing in return. It had always been that way for him at Hogwarts and it was immeasurably useful.

Tom grimaced. Empathy was a distinct weakness. An unnecessary emotion wading in the pool of other worthwhile endeavors.

Hattie stood around the corner from the bathroom, listening to the crowd and catching her breath. The implications of Dumbledore's task swarmed her mind. She wanted to smack herself; she should have clarified exactly what Dumbledore meant by "whatever it took." That could be anything from torture to sabotage to -. Hattie swallowed and shook any semblance of romantic thoughts from her mind. Surely Tom couldn't be too dangerous or difficult to break if her magically adept professor was sending a fifteen year old girl after him.

But what was to say Hattie was clever enough to figure out exactly what Tom was doing? She'd never even noticed him in the future, how was she supposed to find him now? There were no leads.

The pressure of her task weighed her down like an anchor, dragging her down to the depths of the dark, murky ocean. As she imagined her lungs filling with salty water, her mind's eye saw Tom staring right back at her.

Hattie pushed her palms into the wall as her throat constricted. Her light brown hair had fallen from their braids and tangled around her bowed head.

Her mother wouldn't have wanted her to behave this way. She couldn't be a coward now. Her gentle, kind-hearted mother only ever wanted to help people. Hattie was neither gentle nor kind-hearted, but if figuring out Tom's plan would somehow help somebody, anybody, she had to try.

Her stomach churned as she raised her head and straightened her back. Hattie had wallowed in self-pity for long enough. It was time to do whatever it took to break Tom Riddle.

* * *

Hattie sauntered over to Tom at exactly 9:12pm. She figured if her goal was to break through Tom Riddle, every little annoyance and frustration would make all the difference.

"You're late," Tom adjusted his prefect badge and shot her a condescending smile.

"You're insufferable," Hattie countered, pulling her tangled hair out of her face and twisting it expertly into a high bun. "Besides, I made you a promise."

Tom cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Which is?"

Hattie noted the inkling of interest in his voice.

 _ **Perfect.**_

"I promised I'd be a minute late for every second longer you interrupted my peace on the train. I'm a woman of my word, Tom Riddle." Hattie retained eye contact and let a defiant smirk build on her lips. Growing with every second of crackling silence between them. His presence was electrifying.

When Tom finally reacted, the look he returned chilled Hattie to her core. His eyes glinted with a semblance of intrigue. Perhaps Tom's interest was more terrifying than his haughty disinterest. Clearly, everything they did was a game and Tom was positive he'd always win.

Hattie swallowed at the sobering realization that very few things actively interested Riddle. Nevertheless, retaining his interest would be essential to her task.

She'd just willingly hurled herself into the lion's den.

She suddenly wished there'd been time to pit-stop at the Slytherin dormitories to grab a shot of Vera's firewhiskey. Ogden always had the best stash and never seemed to figure out who stole it, the prat.

"Insufferable? I find myself quite charming," Tom motioned for Hattie to walk besides him as he moved down the corridor, "Don't you think so?" The fire in his eyes flared as he awaited Hattie's assessment of his charisma. Not that he cared as long as he could use his biting charm to his advantage.

"Merely an hour ago you assaulted me outside the Great Hall." Hattie felt rushed keeping up with Tom's long, purposeful strides, "If that's your brand of charming, you're severely lacking."

Tom walked on, contemplating her words before spinning around in front of Hattie, obstructing her path. She sidestepped him but he was again directly in her way. Tom smirked at her attempt to move past him.

Hattie gasped as his hand brushed down the length of her arm and gently gripped her fingers. He fiddled with each one, reveling in Hattie's blush. He bent his head down to make eye contact and found wide-eyed terror staring back at him

After a moment of breathlessness and vulnerability, Hattie smacked his hand away. She was at least smart enough to know what he was doing.

"Let go of me you massive git." Hattie pushed him out of the way and moved on down the corridor. "I can tell when you're being manipulative." Her heart raced and she felt her cheeks burning with the remnants of a deep blush.

Unsure what to do as she moved away, Hattie crossed her arms in staunch defiance and held her head high until Tom was suddenly behind her. She hadn't heard him move and instead felt his warm breath against her cheek. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her arms fell limp at her side. Tom laced his fingers in Hattie' jumper, right at her waist. His grip was strong, holding her in place. He stepped close, but not enough to push against her.

Tom again dragged a hand up her arm and moved a lock of hair off her goosebump ridden shoulder. Hattie released a breath of air from her nose and momentarily considered letting him continue.

His touch was feather light, but forceful enough to feel through her cloak and jumper. Hattie's eyes fluttered as Tom ran his palm over her neck. A finger twirled around a stray piece of hair and Tom pulled down slightly, making Hattie lean back into him

"Clearly you're smarter than I gave you credit for," he whispered against her cheek. "Now tell me, Hattie, why are you so fascinated with advanced defensive spells? Would it have anything to do with your remarkable talent for causing trouble?"

His husky voice broke Hattie's trance and she attempted to smack him again but Tom slipped past her and sauntered down the hall. He beckoned for her to follow and Hattie threw her hands up in the air.

Her heart was in overdrive. She was sure she could feel it pressing into her ribs. How could anybody have that sort of effect on her? If he was going to play dirty, she could too. If she knew anything about Tom, he thrived on control. All she had to do was take it away, get under his skin.

In a moment of strength, Hattie jogged to move in front of Tom. If they were going to play tug-of-war, she had to pull back.

"Tom, haven't you ever heard ladies first?" Hattie turned to face him and walked backwards. It was fantastic that the corridor was deserted. Hattie was liable to crash into somebody and topple to the floor with Tom watching.

His head tipped slightly to the side as he watched her overblown display of defiance. His focus on her movement was razor sharp and he was baffled by the rebellion smoldering in her eyes. "As for the defensive spells, I like taking in information a little quicker than the standard curriculum accommodates. So I teach myself."

"I see," Tom drawled. The venom in his voice told Hattie he was aware of her blatant lie.

"Hurry up, Tom," Hattie commanded, as if the look her gave her had no effect. "I don't have all night."

Tom halted in the middle of the hall, staring daggers at Hattie as she mimicked his earlier hand motion to follow.

"Of course," Tom's structured polite demeanor returned. He clasped his hands behind his back and moved to catch up. His cloak waved gracefully around him.

Hattie smiled a glowing, toothy grin before turning a corner. Ada once said her smile could dismantle the armies of Troy. Perhaps it could destroy Riddle too.

Tom failed to respond to her glistening smile. He instead scrutinized her as he drifted closer. Hattie was exceptionally small but housed a fighting spirit he didn't see in his own brainless followers. She was simultaneously fire and ice; Burning bright then freezing over. Equal parts fascinating and infuriating. She vehemently refused deferring to him and was wary of his persuasiveness. Hattie Selwyn was unlike anybody he'd ever met and somewhere in the deep recesses of Tom's mind, that concerned him. Different meant unpredictable and unpredictable meant dangerous.

Hattie wasn't certain where they were headed but she knew she had to keep moving to retain a clear head.

She was sure Tom had won their current game until she heard a slight growl behind her. The low, guttural sound was music to her ears.

Tom's anger simmered as he considered the ramifications of Hattie's potential interference. In a somewhat desperate attempt to regain her attention, Tom bore his eyes into her back, willing her to follow his lead. She must be insane to get on his bad side. If she liked playing with fire he could spark one for her.

He attempted to push his way into her mind but it was locked tight. Hattie was being cautious now. He'd been reckless and a little too eager earlier that day. She was on her guard and so he'd be required to work even harder to break in. Her mind was simply locked and he needed the proper key.

They continued in silence for a few tense moments before Tom grabbed Hattie's arm and spun her towards him. If there was anything he wouldn't tolerate from Hattie, it was looking him in the eyes and lying.

All patience for her stupid game had run dry. Tom was astounded he had held it together as long as he had. Rarely did anybody lie to his face and proceed to boss him around like they had the moral high ground. Nobody dared.

Who did this girl think she was? She was clearly foolish. Hattie had no concept of the things he could do to her if she pushed him too far. The things he _would_ do to her when he figured out why she was sneaking around, why she was so skittish, and most importantly, why she was astoundingly hell-bent on crossing him.

"Clearly you want to lie your way out of telling me why you're constantly studying magic far beyond your level. And don't think I haven't seen it over the past year. You lack any semblance of subtlety." Tom's voice was low and deadly as his fingers dug deep into her arm. "I think we're done."

Hattie swallowed and ripped her arm from his grip. "What, Tom? Can't handle being second in command?" Her neck and face burned as she hurriedly considered how to lie her way out if Tom questioned her further. Her eyes widened as she awaited additional interrogation.

Tom ran his tongue across his teeth and closed his eyes before composing himself. Hattie Selwyn set him so on edge he could hardly control himself.

"I've never had to be." Tom turned and stormed the other direction.

Hattie peered after him. Tom didn't appear to be heading to the Slytherin dungeons. In fact, he was instead headed in the complete opposite direction.

Where would he be going at ten at night?

With a final glance around, Hattie slipped her shoes from her feet and tip toed down the hall. The rock flooring pushed into the soles of her feet but she bit her tongue and moved forward. If this was her first chance to get a lead on Riddle, she wouldn't waste it.

The castle was eerie this time of night. Trees whistles and scraped against the castle walls and owls hooted ominously across the ground. The candles danced in the dark, casting deep shadows in every direction. Hattie pulled her wand from her cloak and shrunk her shoes to fit in her cloak pocket. She didn't need them clattering to the floor and giving her away.

As she followed him down corridor after corridor, Hattie remained a safe enough distance from Tom, begging he wouldn't hear her. There was no telling what he would do to her if she found him when he didn't want to be.

Five minutes past before Hattie realized they had been moving in circles.

"You're following me," Tom stepped out from behind a hideous pixie statue. "Why?"

"You're headed the opposite direction of the Slytherin common room," Hattie rubbed her temple with her palm, "Where are you going?" She instantly scolded herself for being so brash. Tom wasn't completely baseless in his assessment of her lack of subtlety, especially in high pressure situations involving Tom himself.

He contemplated her once again and slowly stepped forward. His arms crossed as he circled her like a predator ensnaring their prey.

Tom stopped centimeters from Hattie, nearly corralling her between himself and the rocky wall. His lip twitched as his eyes fell down to Hattie's sock-clad feet. "You've misplaced your shoes."

Hattie crossed her legs in a half-witted attempt at shielding her feet from view. Of course Riddle would change the subject. She must have struck gold for him to deflect her question.

Tom's gaze slowly drifted up to meet hers. He made sure she saw him examine every bit of her as his eyes moved up her body. He smiled pleasantly, waiting for a response.

"What are you doing?"

"Speaking with you," Tom reached into Hattie's front cloak pocket to remove her shrunken shoes. He examined them, bereft of his previously displayed emotions.

"Clever," Tom grabbed Hattie's wrist and dropped the shoes in her open palm. "But you could have silenced your footsteps just as easily."

His voice was even but flirted with frustration.

He was attempting to figure her out, Hattie noted. Perhaps she had jumped in too soon after seeing Dumbledore. She wasn't thinking clearly. This is exactly what happened after her mother passed and she started time traveling. She jumped in too swiftly and it reeked havoc on her health. She made mistakes and almost got caught, often by Riddle himself. Clearly, she had to be more cautious around Tom. A single misstep wouldn't go unnoticed.

Hattie scowled and returned her shoes to their original size. She struggled to put them back on her feet while Tom waited patiently in front of her. Hattie suddenly grabbed his shoulder to steady herself as she slipped her shoes back on.

Tom immediately tensed at the touch and stepped out of her grasp like he'd been electrocuted. His stone cold face darkened, warning Hattie she had overstepped.

Because of his sudden movement, she stumbled forward and gave an exasperated shout.

"You're impossible," Hattie tapped her wand against her laces to tie them and steadied herself.

If he was going to touch her, she was going to touch him too. Apparently that jarred him in some way. But how could it? He was the most sought after man in school. Certainly he was accustomed to women running their grimy hands all over him.

As Hattie regained her composure, Tom caught a glimpse of a gilt chain lingering near her shoulder. He also noticed Hattie surreptitiously cover it with her cloak.

"Goodnight," With a final nod, Tom spun and walked back towards his original destination.

Hattie scoffed and ran her palms over her eyes. Tom assumed Hattie would leave him be after his poor attempt at deflecting her questions.

Something about the assumption ignited her curiosity further. If Dumbledore wanted her to figure out what Tom was doing during his free time, she might as well begin now. But she had to be careful about it lest she ruin everything like last year.

Replaying Dumbledore's disturbingly blank expression when she inquired about Tom sent a shiver cascading down her spine..

Hattie watched Tom go with a sour look on her face. He was insufferable and ridiculous. There was something pompous about the way he behaved, yet nobody minded. People liked it even. They were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. If the analogy rang true, she was playing with fire and would eventually get burned.

Hattie groaned, if she wanted to continue her work, she had to manually override her underlying fear of Riddle. Dumbledore could pull the rug out from under her in an instant if she didn't do exactly as he wanted. As kind as Dumbledore could be, Hattie dreaded the consequences of failing him. She could get expelled and get a one-way ticket to Azkaban. She would do whatever necessary to prevent such an untimely fate.

Hattie tapped her wand against her chin. Luckily for her, she could follow him again. And this time she would silence her footsteps instead.


	5. A Do Over

Hattie slipped into an empty broom cupboard. A harsh rush of air swept through the room as she struggled to pull the door shut. Her feet slipped against the slick floor and she cursed the whole line of Hogwarts caretakers for their dramatic use of oversized doors on their cupboards. It finally closed with a decisive groan and Hattie stilled near the entrance to ensure nobody heard her struggle.

She hurriedly checked her watch to mark the current time. She was known to occasionally lose track of her most valuable asset. Time was as much a tool to be manipulated as it was a dangerous trinket that could drive even the most organized mind mad. At least her organization skills had improved. After leaving a particularly incriminating family document on her four poster she vowed to create a better system so somebody like Ogden or God forbid, Tom, ever found anything.

With the delicacy of cradling a baby bird, Hattie removed her time turner from her jumper and twisted the knob back once. She owed it a little care after tossing it haphazardly onto Dumbledore's desk. A tickling heat snaked up Hattie's arm, weaving in and out of her veins, turning them a brilliant gold. She liked to think of it as the strings of time pulling her in every direction. Time was part of her and she was a part of time. And in a way very few people were. She commanded time instead of it dragging her to her grave.

As poetic as her interpretation of time, Hattie questioned her aging over the past year. If she relived an hour, as she was soon to do tonight, would she grow an hour older or retain her age from the point she activated the time turner. She could be months or years older than her classmates by the time she graduated. Her stomach twisted painfully at the thought of it.

The cupboard remained still around her as the time turner worked its magic. The overbearing silence was suddenly trampled by the sounds of students rushing by outside.

So much for heading to their dormitories right after dinner. Apparently people were more intent on fostering their inter-house friendships and finding adolescent trouble than worrying about the fast approaching curfew.

Hattie chuckled. She was going to be the most atrocious prefect that ever graced the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. How desperately she wanted to encourage them to push the rules as far as possible. Surely Tom would have none of it, making it that much more appealing..

Hattie traced her vine wand down her body. Her Disillusionment Charms were improving immensely. When she'd first begun, they were abysmal. She spooked a little second year Hufflepuff when her charm wore off, making her appear out of thin air like she'd somehow Apparated within the castle. That had started quite a thrilling rumor about Hattie's "unnatural abilities." It wasn't so awful having people think she was uniquely powerful. What _was_ awful was knowing it sprung from a dismal display of magic. That, and having Riddle take an unforeseen interest in her.

Now when she cast the charm, you could only see her if you were expressly looking.

If only Hogwarts took more of an interest in advanced students before the N.E.W.T level. With everything Hattie self-taught over the past year, sixth and seventh year would be a breeze.

She stowed her wand and leaned her ear against the door. It was currently 8:47 pm in her old self's time. She needed to wait at least another half hour for the commotion outside to settle down for the night.

Hattie slid down against the door and sprawled her legs out in front of her. She desperately wanted to sleep and forget everything that had happened today, if only for a few hours.

Leaving was still an option. She could forgo stalking Tom tonight and reconvene later. The temptation to abandon her mission tonight lingered but nevertheless, she stayed. If she risked aborting her travel she was liable never to return to do it again. Other things would occupy her mind and this occurrence would swim in the pot of every other almost-trip she'd taken.

Hattie delicately rolled her neck and rubbed her cramped shoulders. Spurts of pain surged down her back as she stretched it against the door, pushing her hands above her head.

Occupying herself while waiting, she pulled _Advanced Defensive Spells_ from her bag. She'd been working on her Shield Charm. More than once she'd found herself needing a shield and she wouldn't be caught without one again.

Hattie flicked her wand, whispering the spell. She smiled with glee when a vibrant shield burst from her wand, casting a haunting glow in the dark before disintegrating like an expired firework.

Better.

Shuffling around in the dark, Hattie latched onto a small bottle of Quik Witch Cleaner. She heaved it in the air and threw up a shield before it could crash down onto her head. The bottle bounced off the shield and clattered against the wall, toppling a stock of mops. The sound reverberated through the room.

Hattie hissed and silenced the cupboard, begging nobody meddlesome heard from outside. Her breath heaved as she waited to get caught milling around a ruddy cleaning cupboard. That might actually be worse than the time Tom found her lying unconscious on the floor outside the Slytherin common room. Apparently he'd carried her all the way to the hospital wing. According to Madam Loraine, the hospital wing matron, Tom waited patient and silent for her to wake up. He watched her unceasingly the three hours it took for her to come to.

Luckily, nobody burst into the room inquiring after her odd situation. Hattie dropped on her stomach to peek under the door. The steps were dying out and it was nearly silent in the corridor.

Utilizing the door to pull herself up, Hattie gripped the doorknob and pushed it open a pinch. It gave an exasperated groan and scratched against the floor. Thankfully, her only company was the portraits and the torch flames dancing on the walls.

Hattie exhaled and shut the door behind her, not bothering to right the mops. She could always blame it on Peeves if anybody asked. But why would they? She was with Tom right now too.

There was something otherworldly about watching yourself talk and move. Like you'd been plucked from your body and remained behind as a ghost of your previous self, unable to control anything you said or did. Hattie had long ago sworn never to interact with herself. It would be shocking and might compromise her future self's decisions. Hopefully she would never be in a situation where that was required of her.

Hattie's impeccably shined shoes clicked against the floor and she rolled her eyes, silencing her steps.

Fucking Riddle. He had to be right about everything. Even things she hadn't yet done like silence her footsteps.

Hattie slinked down the corridor, staking out a hiding spot near the hideous pixie statue. There were minimal options in the area. Another broom cupboard, which she wasn't keen on entering for a second time that night or an old classroom.

Hattie settled on the small, derelict classroom across the hall. It didn't seem like anybody had been inside for years. Dust erupted from the floor as she crept inside. There was no torch burning or moonlight shining into the room. The curtains were drawn and chairs piled high against the wall.

It seemed like Hogwarts was too large for it's own good. Over the past year, Hattie had discovered numerous secret passages and rooms presumably unknown to her fellow classmates. The reason for their existence was anybody's guess. Perhaps the founders enjoyed their privacy.

Corralling a cough from the dust cloud, Hattie positioned herself beside to the door to hear herself and Riddle speak in a few short minutes.

* * *

"You're following me," Riddle said. "Why?"

Classroom Hattie chilled. She leaned as close as possible to the door to listen to their faint voices drifting into the classroom. Hattie scolded herself for not leaving the door open a crack to better hear what was happening in the hall.

Hattie's heart raced considering what she was about to do. Sweat prickled her forehead and her throat dried. She had no plan other than follow Riddle. What if he caught her again? She didn't know where to hide after she left this classroom.

Improvisation was generally her forte but her long learned habit of quick thinking was failing her tonight.

Hattie choked out a breath, waiting for hers and Riddle's footsteps to disappear before slipping out of the classroom and heading down the hall after Tom.

She cast a Disillusionment Charm and stuck as close to the walls as she could muster. The only thing that would give her away now was her erratic breathing. Hattie attempted to get it in check but she was unraveling in Tom's presence.

This felt nefarious. Why did Dumbledore want her to do any of this? Hattie knew a hot nothing about Tom Riddle other than what everybody else in school knew of him. He was an attractive, detached, orphan, know-it-all. Maybe it was only her who believed the last one. How was she meant to figure him out if she knew close to nothing about him. To her dismay, stalking Tom could lead to learning or seeing things she could never forget. There was undoubtedly more to him that unnerved her but she couldn't pinpoint what exactly that was.

Tom's steps slowed and he gracefully turned to look behind him. His eyes surveyed the space and landed exactly where Hattie was crouching. In that single, intense moment, Hattie was certain Tom saw right through her disguise. A knowing look crossed his face as he smirked right at Hattie. Her eyes bugged and her breath caught. Hopefully she was far enough away that he couldn't hear her. Generally, she wasn't shaken by following people around, but something about Tom had her questioning her own sanity.

Tom's eyes finally drifted past her and circled the hall before he slipped into a girl's bathroom.

Hattie grimaced at his lack of shame. What on God's green earth would Tom want in the girl's bathroom?

He was probably a pervert.

She knew it.

Her steps were silent but her heart ramming against her chest betrayed her. She leaned into the wall beside the entrance. Opening it even a crack could give her away completely.

There was shuffling in the room and suddenly Tom burst from the bathroom. The door slammed against the wall, drowning out Hattie's gasp. Tom stopped dead in his tracks and looked directly at Hattie.

A breath came and went between them before Tom smirked and walked back the way they'd came.

Hattie stood statue still until Tom's footsteps faded. He walked with such brevity, she'd need to knock him down a notch. Then maybe his footsteps wouldn't echo like even the floor deferred to him.

When Hattie braved a glance around, she was completely alone. She danced on the edge of tears a second time that day. Either she was losing her edge or sorely out of practice at this handling her life thing.

Hattie's hands shook as she pushed the bathroom door open. Everything was still and deathly silent when she entered. Nothing looked out of place. Hattie ran through a multitude of revealing spells only to discover nothing had been placed. It was like he stood in the room for a few minutes and promptly left without accomplishing anything. But that wasn't Riddle. He did nothing needlessly.

"What is he doing?" Hattie whispered. Her face flushed and she grasped the closest sink to splash her face. The knob moved but no water flowed. "Damn it."

She threw her fists down on the porcelain and rested her head against the cool surface. A shock of pain rang through her bones but she again slammed her hands against the sink.

Tom must have done something she wasn't seeing or knew to look for. No sane wizard would mill around a girl's lavatory without a purpose. Especially not Tom Riddle.

Hattie reversed her Disillusionment Charm and tumbled down onto her back, arms and legs sprawled out like she was crafting a snow angel. The floor was cool against her and she sighed in relief. Tonight was finished. She could rest a moment before heading back to the Slytherin common room. There was no reason to analyze what she'd just seen. Playing mental gymnastics could happen at a later time.

Hattie lazed for a few blissful minutes until the bathroom door flew open. She screamed with the shock of it and drew her wand on the intruder.

Panic seeped into her veins as she debated the ideal way to talk herself out of trouble with Tom. He had caught her red-handed. Why had she stayed longer than absolutely necessary? Obviously she hadn't outgrown her reckless streak over the summer holiday. She could feign fainting, clearly he responded to that well. Maybe Tom would carry her to the Slytherin common room and she wouldn't have to do any work at all.

"Would you leave?" A meek, feminine voice cried from the other side of the room. A stall slammed shut, shaking the wooden door frame.

The girl gave a dreadful, banshee-like cry. She sounded so pathetic it peaked Hattie's interest. She might as well see who had interrupted her. At least it hadn't been Riddle, unless he cried like a girl.

Hattie rubbed the grime from her uniform as she stood. The floor had done quite a number on her pristine Slytherin robes. She picked balls of hair and dirt from her clothing and gagged as she dropped them back on the floor.

It then wasn't difficult to find the bawling girl; There was only a single occupied stall. Hattie walked carefully up to the door and knocked with her knuckles, scratching them on the wood.

"Is there anything I can do?" Hattie's heart hurt at the tragic sound of the girls crying. It was a marriage of desperation and fear. "Please come out. I promise, I just want to help."

The crying slowed to a faint sniffle when the stall clicked open. A small Ravenclaw girl stood before Hattie. She wore her pin-straight black hair in pigtails. The girl wiped her nose on her cloak and looked expectantly at Hattie. She'd been taken up on her offer to assist.

"Well," Hattie rubbed her arm. "I'm not so good at talking about emotions and things so - so maybe you could tell me what happened?" She shrugged and hoped that in some twisted way she could help this girl.

"You're one of them," Pigtail girl scowled at Hattie's house crest. A distant look clouded her reddened eyes.

"One of wha - oh," Hattie self consciously rubbed her Slytherin house crest. "But I'm a prefect too so maybe that counts for something?"

This wasn't the first time Hattie was rudely disregarded for her house allegiance. Her father had been a Slytherin. Her mother was a Hufflepuff and she never heard the end of it. Hattie sighed remembering her brash, outspoken father; He and Tom were frighteningly similar.

When Hattie was little more than five, she set the dining room aflame in a fit of rage-induced accidental magic. Her father beamed, rapidly extinguished the flames to right the burn damage on the centuries old dining table.

He had crouched down before Hattie who stared straight into his eyes, unafraid of the consequences of her actions. Perhaps it was bravery, perhaps it was foolishness. Or a healthy dose of both. Her father never figured it out.

"You're too much like me for your own good," Her father ran his hands down her hair and pulled her into a tight embrace. "God help the poor bastard who ends up with you."

He'd died shortly after.

Pigtail girl considered Hattie's distant state. Water pooled in her eyes, threatening to fall once more from being ignored by the girl who said she'd help.

Hattie snapped out of her trance and examined the girl. Where was the proud Ravenclaw demeanor she'd come to expect from her classmates? Hattie had never once seen a Ravenclaw cry. Not that she spent an exorbitant amount of time around them to begin with.

"I guess so," the girl said cautiously. "I'm Myrtle."

"Myrtle, I'm Hattie," Hattie gave the girl a tepid smile. "Now, tell me what happened."

The look on Myrtle's face tore something in Hattie. It could have been either from remembering the father she barely knew or that the girl in front of her was clearly in pain.

"It was that wretched Olive Hornby," Myrtle plopped down on the floor and Hattie slowly followed suit, wary of dirtying her new cloak further. "She was making fun of me. She said my eyes are too far apart."

Hattie balanced. Well, Hornby had a valid point, but still. "That's horrible. Does she do this often?" Hattie fiddled with a patch of dirt on the ground. Ada handled anything emotional for her since her mother passed so Hattie was accustomed to shutting herself off. Tonight was the first time in a while she didn't have Ada available to fight her emotional battles so her sympathy skills were rusty.

"All the time," Myrtle wailed. The dramatic twinge in her voice said Myrtle savored sharing her immense woes. "She laughs at my hair, and my teeth, and my left foot that's a half-size bigger than the other."

"Oh," Hattie cleared her throat. "Just tell me next time she does that, okay?"

Myrtle's issues seemed so minor compared to her own but Hattie quickly realized her woes were not standard.

Realistically, all Hattie could do as a prefect was dock house points from Slytherin for Hornby's behavior. But as an individual, there were a great many things she could do to the bitch that thought she was funny and powerful for picking on students younger and less fortunate than herself.

Hattie suppressed a smirk while considering sending Tom after Hornby. That would give both of them a right shock. The thought instantaneously sobered Hattie. She dropped her head in shame for thinking something so vile. Tom wasn't a tool. He was a person, not a weapon, and she wouldn't use him as such. Dumbledore would be disgusted if he had any inkling of what she'd just considered.

Hattie's legs ached with fatigue. At this rate, the day would never end. And with her luck, she'd encounter five more people and a cheery Slughorn chatting about the next Slug Club meeting before making it back to the safety of the dungeons.

Myrtle nodded as Hattie ran circles on her back. It was soothing comforting somebody other than herself for a change. Hattie's brows furrowed as she stood, offering Myrtle a hand. There was only so far moping would get them.

The little Ravenclaw took her hand happily and wrapped her arms around Hattie's middle, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She'd never had siblings but she imaged this is what it would be like if she had. Hattie wrapped her arms around Myrtle's shoulders and rubbed her hair as her father used to do with her in times of duress.

Tears tinged Hattie's eyes and she pulled Myrtle towards herself, whispering that everything would be okay and that Hornby could go shag a goat. Either the exhaustion was getting to her or her heart wasn't actually lead. It was clearly the exhaustion.

Myrtle didn't release the hug and Hattie was left to gingerly pull away. "I think you should get to bed, Myrtle. I'll see you in the Great Hall tomorrow morning, okay?"

Hattie wiped the last of Myrtle's tears from her eyes and reveled in her her soft smile. By some miracle, she had successfully helped the girl.

Myrtle gave Hattie a final squeeze before shuffling out of the bathroom. Hattie watched her go with a fond smile.

If Hornby wanted to get to Myrtle, she would have to get through Hattie too. Picking on younger students because she wanted attention; That bitch would pay.


	6. Schoolyard Gossip

The crisp September air bit Hattie's nose. She pulled her cloak to herself as she stumbled down to the dungeons. Midnight had passed and she'd been up far too long that day. She focused on walking like she was sober but her knees quaked in protest. The stifling pressure of the past six hours settled heavy on her mind. She was having difficulty seeing straight.

As she clambered into the Slytherin common room, Hattie toppled onto the first couch in view. Plush fabric dipped as her body sank into the emerald green pillows. It was peacefully quiet in the room. The diminishing remains of a green fire smoldered in the fireplace.

The cold from the drafty corridors followed her into the dungeons, causing an involuntary shiver.

Hattie removed her cloak and draped it over herself like a blanket. Leaning against the armrest, she pulled her knees into her chest and laid her cheek against her legs. She lazily admired the swirling nothingness of the black lake outside the windows. Innumerable unrecognizable creatures drifted by, ignorant of the voyeuristic window into their world.

"Enjoy your walk?" Tom closed the book in his hands with a snap and tossed it to the side. He sat leisurely near the far wall in the room, almost invisible in the late night darkness. "Ms. Prewett informed me you hadn't returned and she was quite concerned."

Damn it, Charlotte. Hattie balled her fists in the fabric of her cloak. Charlotte was too obtuse for her own good.

She couldn't break now, as strenuous as it was. Just a few more minutes and she could fall into her four poster and sleep a few hours before classes began the following morning. Hattie had to play the game until she was safely in her bed, which was apparently the only place Tom wasn't.

"Quite. Thank you for taking such an interest."

Hattie flashed a flirtatious smile she wasn't certain Tom could see in such limited lighting. She stood gracefully from her seat and hung her cloak over her arm, ignoring his latter comment about Charlotte completely. She ambled across the room, anything rushed would signal suspicion. His eyes were shrouded in darkness but Tom was certainly watching. Baby hair on the back of her neck prickled as she moved closer.

Hattie drifted towards Tom and stalled right before him. He sat perfectly still, eyes surveying her own, searching desperately for her intention.

She ran a hand over his shoulder in a much too familiar fashion to entangle her fingers in his cloak and slip it from his shoulder.

Hattie smirked when he didn't jump away but instead hissed a warning. Pushing her luck, she stood over him and dragged her fingers down to his tie, leisurely running over his prefect badge. Her hands burned at the contact but she didn't stop.

Not once did they break eye contact. Unblinking and unwilling to miss any movement, Tom surveyed her.

Hattie tugged lightly at the knot on his tie, loosening it.

That did it. Tom seized her wrist and dug in with his nails. He growled when Hattie made no indication he'd done anything at all. Skin broke and she didn't make a peep. Instead, Hattie stared him down with unbridled loathing. It concerned him.

"Don't start anything you're not willing to commit to, Ms. Selwyn." Tom tugged her towards him. She was practically in his lap as he wrapped his free hand around her lower back and pulled her between his knees.

She didn't back down from his challenge. Instead focusing on the fire in his eyes and on her skin.

Toying with people was Tom's specialty. Hattie had seen it countless times. But wasn't she doing the exact same?

She wished the quaking in her legs wasn't so prevalent. Tom thinking he made her weak in the knees was dangerously vulnerable. Unwelcome goosebumps tickled her skin from the cold. Hattie braved a glance at the cloak in her arms before looking back at Tom. He had no business believing he caused these reactions. God knew he didn't need anything else boosting his unnaturally large ego.

"I would never commit anything to you, Riddle," Hattie breathed. She used her unrestrained hand to again tug on his tie, loosening it further. She slipped a finger under his jumper to the white collared shirt, undoing the first button.

Hattie's breath strained. She had no idea how far she would take this. How far was too far when simply toying with somebody? Even more terrifying, she had no idea how far he was would lead this in return.

Tom pulled the cloak from her grasp and dropped it on the floor next to them. He finally broke eye contact to gaze down her shoulders, chest, all the way to her toes. She wriggled under his sharp stare and his eyes shot back up to meet Hattie's unyielding scrutiny.

Funny how badly she wanted him to know she wasn't afraid.

"Hattie," A sleepy-eye Charlotte trotted down the stairs. When she looked up, she saw her friend entangled with Tom and her eyes bulged. "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"No, Charlotte, you weren't intruding," Hattie broke from Tom's grasp and rushed over to Charlotte's side. She wrapped her arm in Charlotte's and pulled her hastily up the stairs.

"I was waiting for you on the steps. You hadn't come back and I was worried," Charlotte stammered. "I didn't mean to stop you and Tom from doing whatever it was that you were doing."

"Nothing of consequence, I promise."

Hattie's legs threatened to give way soon if she didn't lie down. Charlotte wrapped a supportive arm around her waist and helped her into their room.

She sat Hattie down and pulled her into a delicate hug.

"Tomorrow you're telling me what happened with Tom," Charlotte whispered too loudly before prompting Hattie to lay down. "I can tell you're exhausted and I need to hear this story when you're fully rested. I have to know why you were practically sitting in his lap."

"You're getting too good at the good girl act," Hattie rubbed her hands over her eyes. "What am I going to do with you?"

"It's not an act," Charlotte chided. "I'm just getting better at getting what I want."

"You're rubbing off on her, Hattie," Ada mumbled from the bed next door. "And I'll kill both of you if you don't remind me to make you tell me the Riddle story tomorrow." Ada fluffed her pillow and promptly fell back asleep.

Hattie rolled her eyes and crawled under her covers but quickly realized her mind was too plagued to get any sleep at all.

* * *

"Ms. Selwyn," Tom stood a safe distance away from where Hattie sat in the Great Hall the following morning. She slowly turned to half face Riddle. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

Charlotte and Ada shared a knowing look and locked hands excitedly under the table. Hattie shot them a venomous glare before throwing her legs over the side of the bench and following Tom out of the hall.

He patiently waited for her near the main staircase. His face blank and arms crossed.

When Hattie stepped close, he moved back a step to foster a larger separation. Tom shoved her cloak at her from a safe distance. She blushed and balled it up to shove into her bag when she returned to her table.

"I acted out of character yesterday night and I want to inform you it will never happen again," Tom scowled and Hattie frowned at his sudden mood shift. "If I acted out of line and you are already intended, I will consider it as never happening."

"Intended?" Hattie choked. Her mother never expressed a desire for Hattie to marry a specific person. Mrs. Selwyn mentioned the Black and Malfoy families on occasion, but never any of the men individually. The entirety of her inheritance sat safely in her possession. Destitution wasn't a looming threat if she selected for herself. Unless her Aunt and Uncle had their own ideas about a prospective marriage. "You're mistaken, Tom. I have none."

Hattie's heart stuttered at the the scrutiny in Tom's expression. He ran his eyes slowly over her body before nodding. "Either way, consider it forgotten."

"Forgotten and left in the gutter with every other nasty experience."

"Charming, Ms. Selwyn." A twinge of warning coated his voice, daring her to push it further.

She elected not to bite. Hattie turned her head away and exited the conversation without a goodbye. The conviction in her stride turned heads as she reentered the Great Hall. If Tom wanted to be hot and cold, she wanted to as well. It was something she was destined to succeed in if last year had been any indication.

Ada and Charlotte jumped on Hattie immediately, inquiring after every facet of the conversation. Their eyes glowed with unrestrained excitement. Hattie had never once been romantically involved with anybody and her friends believed this was the first. By their admission, her and Tom were sneaking around the castle, entangled in a secret relationship.

"We're not sneaking around the castle," Hattie waved her butter knife threateningly between Charlotte and Ada. "He just wanted to ask me a question about prefect duties."

She glanced at the entrance of the room and Tom was just now returning. His presence was electrifying. Her entrance had turned a number of heads but Tom's entrance turned all. Students from every house focused intently on Tom's practiced casual stride.

His eyes snapped to meet Hattie's and her heart plummeted through her stomach. As quickly as it happened, he looked away and took a seat as far away from Hattie as possible. His personal exile placed him in a group of zealous second years. They engaged him immediately and Hattie watched his eyes turn slowly towards her fascinated stare. She pursed her lips and rested her head against her fist. The animated students hadn't noticed Tom's drifting focus. He cocked his head at Hattie's subtle shrug. She flicked her hands his direction like shooing away an animal. He inclined his head and turned away to speak quietly with the students engulfing him.

Hattie sighed and rubbed her palms against her thighs. Ada and Charlotte's mouths hung open looking between Hattie and Tom.

Hattie smacked her meddlesome friends with a discarded napkin. Confiding more would send Ada and Charlotte into a tailspin. Electing not to fuel the fire, Hattie opened the subject of classes and any innocuous subject where Tom was least likely to come up.

* * *

"You lying twit," Ada smacked Hattie with her potions book and locked the door to their shared dorm. Charlotte ran to check the bathroom for anybody that might overhear their conversation. When she was satisfied with their seclusion, she returned to the scene where Hattie sat, unfazed by the insults Ada was hauling her way.

Ada and Charlotte planned to corner Hattie immediately after dinner. As their first day progressed, a fascinating rumor spread about their friend and Tom. During Transfiguration. Charlotte overheard Vera gossiping with her friend about an exchange she'd heard between Tom and Hattie that morning during breakfast. But most enthralling, Vera wasn't pushing a rumor, she was quelling it.

"I must have misheard," Vera whispered desperately to one of her friends. "Tom was asking Selwyn if she was intended."

Charlotte gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth when the whole class looked her way. Dumbledore gave her a gentle smile before continuing his lecture.

Charlotte immediately penned a note to Ada next to her asking if Hattie mentioned anything more about her earlier conversation with Tom. She hadn't. But that would change right after dinner when they could get some privacy.

"You didn't divulge the extent of your conversation with Tom this morning, did you?" Ada lunged for Hattie's dresser, retrieving a pearl necklace from its depths. "Tell me now or your necklace is going in the Black Lake."

Hattie grasped for the necklace just as Ada tossed it behind her to Charlotte.

"It's getting closer to the lake," Ada warned, tapping her foot. "One more chance."

Hattie stared Ada down. There was no clear deception in her eyes. Ada was serious about sacrificing her necklace to the underwater Gods if she didn't give details soon.

"Fine," Hattie hissed and motioned for Charlotte to throw the necklace to her, which she did immediately. "He wanted to know if I had an intended."

"So it's true?" Charlotte jumped onto the bed to get right in Hattie's face. "Is he approaching your Aunt and Uncle?"

"I don't know," Hattie said honestly. "I highly doubt it." It was more to convince herself than the others. If Tom had been fishing for information, she supplied him without hesitation. "Where did you hear this?"

"Vera," Ada and Charlotte said in tandem and shared a disgusted look. That was partially true. Nearly ten different versions of the story had circulated Hogwarts but they assumed Vera's was most accurate. One Gryffindor huddled with her friends outside the greenhouses telling them that Tom was secretly engaged to Hattie and they had been hiding it for months. And one vindictive Ravenclaw swore Hattie was pregnant and that her and Tom were marrying to cover the scandal.

"So you're not pregnant with his child and running away with him to South America?" Charlotte rested a hand on Hattie's shoulder. "If you are, you know we'll support you."

Hattie shook her head and laughed at their sincerity. Nothing as interesting as the rumors had actually happened but that wasn't good enough for Ada.

"What if he does approach your family?" Ada picked a pilling piece of bedspread. "Would you agree?"

Arranged marriages were standard for Ada and much of the Pureblood community. Ada's family encouraged her building a relationship with Julius Avery from a young age. It wasn't going well was a considerable understatement. Ada desired nothing less in the world than being told who she was meant to spend her life with. Avery was simply a byproduct of her embedded familial fury.

Hattie eyed her friend. The underlying question was about choice. Hattie presumably had the opportunity to deny Tom's proposal to her family should it come. The Bellchant and Avery families were generations old friends. Ada never stood a chance. But what was tragic most of all was the intensity in which Avery admired Ada when he didn't think she was looking. How he attentively assisted her with transfiguration when she turned her owl into a chair instead of a table and how he was smitten and Ada was none the wiser.

Shrugging, Hattie jumped from the bed to unlock the door. She took her time wandering back to the bed before answering. This response was critical. Dumbledore's words about doing whatever was necessary rang in her mind. Nothing could be ruled in or out at this juncture. Also, avoiding Ada any undue pain was essential.

"We'll see if that day comes," Hattie whispered. "Then I'll let you know."

Ada lowered her eyes to the floor and nodded causing Hattie to cringe into herself. That was the wrong answer.

* * *

Two weeks later, Hattie sat attentively penning a letter to her Aunt and Uncle in a peaceful corner of the library. They wrote thrice since the year began and she failed to respond each time. Hattie fumed at the memory of their note to Dumbledore. They thought her too immature to speak with directly and instead boxed her into a situation with no foreseeable way out of. All she could do was drive the train forward and hopefully find the light at the end of the tunnel without being crushed to death by falling rock.

Hattie reread the third, frantic letter before balling it and throwing it across the room, bouncing off the head of another student. They turned to scowl at her and she bashfully called the paper back to herself.

Her Aunt was beside herself that Hattie hadn't responded. If it proceeded any longer they were liable to come knocking on her door. Or worse, write Dumbledore a second time, if they hadn't already.

Her response was terse and impersonal. Hattie informed her Aunt she received her letters and spoke with Dumbledore. What she needed now was a way to give her Aunt access to her mother's personal rooms in their manor to look for anything related to Tom Riddle. But how? Should the letter be intercepted, they would immediately question why her mother had information about a fifteen year old boy at Hogwarts.

Hattie groaned and gently laid her head on the table.

Dumbledore. He would surely have a more secure means of transportation than her measly owl.

Ten minutes later, Hattie knocked on Dumbledore's door. It creaked opened and she entered as his soft, melodic voice called for her.

"Sir," Hattie looked around to find Dumbledore sitting near the fire, pensive as he stared into the crackling flames.

"Ms. Selwyn," Dumbledore inclined his head towards the plush chair beside him. "Please, sit."

Hattie rushed to the chair and fell down into the soft pillows, grasping her letter to her chest.

"I need your help," Hattie crinkled the letter and shoved it in Dumbledore's direction. He had a soft smile on his face as he pulled the letter from her outstretched hand. He adjusted his glasses to decipher the recipient.

"Your Aunt," He placed the letter on the table to his left and repositioned to face Hattie. "You've reconciled?"

"No," Hattie said without hesitation. "I'm furious with them but I need something to go off of with Tom. There is so little I know about him. I'm hoping my mother had something. She had dozens of private rooms at the old manor. I've never gone inside but I'm positive she retained her most important information there. If I have some sort of future entanglements with Tom, I'm sure he's mentioned in there somewhere."

Her mother told her numerous times, Hattie would learn what was in the rooms when she was ready. After her mother passed and the manor was willed to herself, Hattie was certain her mother's protective spells broke and she could access the room, but she could never muster the courage to enter. It was too personal, like she was disobeying her mother, even in death.

"Excellent, Ms. Selwyn," There was a twinkle in his eye. "What parent could resist investigating their daughter's future with access to the resources at your mother's disposal?"

Hattie nodded and looked at the letter sitting beside Dumbledore, "Do you have a secure way to get my request to them? I don't want to think about the questions people might ask if it's intercepted."

Dumbledore chuckled and picked the letter up to examine it. "I believe I can do that." With a wave of his hand the letter disappeared in a burst of fire. Dumbledore smiled at Hattie's dumbstruck face. "Perhaps I'll teach you that trick, one day."

"I'd like that," Hattie stood robotically from the chair and thanked Dumbledore for his assistance. He watched her go and turned to frown into the fire.

"Hattie," Dumbledore retained focus on the fire and Hattie's blood chilled at the ferocity in his tone. "Promise you will come right to me if your assignment ever becomes too much to handle."

Hattie's knuckles whitened from her grasp on the doorknob. Even Dumbledore didn't believe she was capable. She should have known.

"The second I need your help, sir." Hattie lied through her teeth.

Hattie closed the office door and ran full speed back to the Slytherin dormitories. She yearned to put as much distance between herself and Dumbledore as possible. She stopped outside the common room entrance, resting her palms on her knees to catch her breath. This is why she didn't play Quidditch. Too much damn exercise.

Huffing and puffing, Hattie mumbled the password to enter. As the door sung inward she jumped inside and ran directly into Tom Riddle.


	7. The Daily Prophet

"Tom," Hattie shimmied from his ironclad grasp. "I have to go."

The pulsing energy between them was palpable. A shock wave rode casually up her arms and into her chest. Tom's eyes rimmed with frustration and the dangerous interest she had come to detest over the past few weeks. It lit up his dark eyes like a spider calling its prey to its web..

Something about Riddle doubled Hattie's reaction to anything and everything. If she skipped pebbles in the Black Lake and Riddle stood beside her she would tie a boulder to her leg and heave herself into the dark depths.

"No, I don't think you do," Tom wrapped his hand around Hattie bicep and pulled her against him. She was panting from the exertion of her rush back to the common room and the jolt of energy from Tom's touch. "You're in a hurry. Where were you?"

They had only spoken briefly since their conversation in the entrance hall a few weeks prior. During rounds it was mostly silent. Acutely aware that the other might snap at any moment, words were lost on both. Hattie dreaded the rounds for the few days after the horrible rumor spread but Tom mentioned nothing of it. Either he hadn't heard or he was as desperate to avoid the topic as Hattie.

"That's not your business," Hattie flicked his shirt collar and smirked at his grimace. Tom's pale fingers readjusted his shirt uncomfortably and Hattie jostled it again, causing a low growl from Riddle.

"Everything's my business," Tom said casually, recovering from her touch. "Especially yours."

Over the past weeks Tom intentionally said little to Hattie. He wasn't positive what would make her crack so he was testing the silent treatment. It hadn't succeeded. She was so unnaturally stubborn, she said nothing in return. That, or she was embarrassed about the ludicrous engagement rumor. If he could make her talk, he would, but that was frowned upon by his professors and too risky should Dumbledore cat onto any of his illegal activities.

Hattie swallowed as Tom's dark eyes searched hers. He was doing it again, trying to get in, she realized almost too late.

Hattie hissed and shoved Tom into a dark corner of the common room, "Stop trying to break into my head. I won't ever let it happen. And I'm only saying it back here because I'm assuming the people out there are none the wiser."

Tom straightened and released his hold on Hattie's arm. Clearly she was aware of what he'd been doing. That first night back at school, he assumed her closing her mind was more unconscious than anything else. A fluke. But clearly that wasn't the case. Hattie was exceptionally astute and she seemed to find joy in turning it against him.

"You think too highly of my abilities," Tom said a tad too quickly. He surveyed her face and saw this hadn't gone unnoticed.

The intermittent shadows cast a haunting light on her devilish grin. So _this_ is what she liked, Tom thought. Showing him she was aware of everything he did, every mistake he made, every last thought in his head.

"Have you considered asking me what I'm thinking instead?" Hattie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'll tell you where I was."

"Out with it, then." Tom stepped forward and ran his palms down from her shoulders and pulled her crossed arms to her side. "Tell me where you were."

"No, thank you," Hattie pulled their hands to her pocket and pushed her wand into his stomach. "Don't ask me again." There was no playfulness in her voice.

Swiftly, like he hadn't moved, Tom's wand was positioned at Hattie's neck, driving into her pulse.

"Drop it, Hattie" Tom's voice was low and chilling, persuasive and deadly. Hattie's hand fell down lower but still faced Tom. "Unpleasant things happen to people who turn their wand against me."

"And what unpleasant things will you do to me, prefect Riddle?" Hattie leaned into his wand and hoped Tom couldn't see her wavering hands. "Ah - you're what happened to Marcus Howard last year with his untreatable burn."

"You'd like to find out?" Tom whispered against her ear, driving his wand deeper into her neck.

He pulled away and Hattie's stared into the fire in his eyes, giving him a slow nod, indicating the affirmative. Tom cocked his head and slowly dropped his wand and pushed Hattie out of the dark corner in front of him.

A few Slytherin's gave each other conspiratorial looks as the pair appeared out of the dark corner. Hattie sighed, apparently they had just rekindled the rumor mill. Hattie stood in silence a few moments before turning to throw a nasty comment Tom's way, but he had disappeared

Hattie gave the kids looking at her the finger before taking the steps two at a time up to her dormitory.

Tom fell into his favorite chair in the corner and stared absently at the steps leading to the girls dormitory. Hattie was growing bolder. Too bold in his opinion. She was challenging him without fully understanding what he was capable of. And for some reason he couldn't place, he let her go for longer than he afforded Marcus Howard or anybody else, for that matter.

The difference was Hattie wasn't a coward. Foolish and short-sighted, perhaps, but not cowardly. If Hattie was half as unpredictable and brash as he assumed, she needed to be reigned in.

But most of all, the rush he felt in his veins when she defied him needed to be quelled immediately.

* * *

Sunday dawned cold and gloomy. Crackles of lightning rippled through the clouds, illuminating the grounds.

Hattie slipped from her bed and silenced the space around her. With a final look to ensure her roommates were asleep, Hattie slipped under her bed and pulled her trunk to the side. Her false floorboard pulled off easily after a few choice security spells.

Hattie pulled herself out from under the bed to confirm nobody was watching. Her knees scraped against the wood and she hissed, praying she was still in the confines of her silencing spell. A few tense seconds passed, but nobody stirred. Hattie shook her head and crawled back under her bed, lighting her wand to look at the contents inside. _Advanced Defensive Spells_ moved out of the way with a flick of her wand. Reaching her arm down, Hattie fumbled for a stack of parchment. Her running notes. She clasped them tightly, making sure they didn't fly out of order. After stuffing them in her bag, she reached for her books and resealed her hiding space.

Today would be a long day. She planned spending her day studying in the library under night fell and students slipped off to bed. Then she would invade the restricted section to take a look at Dumbledore's suggested reading. If she had time, she would see what Hogwarts Library had for her in the 1980's. She'd been working her way through the decades over the past year. The distinct weakness of the time turner was the importance of location. She couldn't travel forward or backwards in time anywhere but where she was standing. Travel was needed to get anywhere else and school massively limited her range of movement. Hogsmeade trips were her only chance to get away from the school and she had to use them strategically since there weren't many.

After a brief breakfast, Hattie found a dark corner in the library and started her actual schoolwork. Hiding at the bottom of her school bag were the damning notes and _Advanced Defensive Spells_. Risking taking the notes out during the day was suicide.

Hattie had created a schedule for herself that her friends and roommates wouldn't question. Sundays were her study day and nobody was suspicious, especially considering her placement in the class rankings. Apparently having a designated study day was beneficial to her grades.

Around eight the library emptied. Madam Pince walked through and gave Hattie a haughty glance before resuming her work at the circulation desk. Dumbledore had certainly spoken with her. Not once had she snapped at Hattie for lingering past hours.

By ten, everybody was gone and the torches dimmed. Hattie put away her real school work and pulled her notes from her bag. Last she'd seen was Hogwarts in 1979. News clippings were wrought with strife caused at the hands of self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort. Hattie shivered. Grindelwald was a looming threat today but Voldemort awaited her and everybody she loved in the next few decades. And she couldn't say a thing. It was times like these Hattie wondered how her mother kept her mind. Seeing but never acting. It could drive anybody mad.

Hattie perused her notes for a refresher and stowed them away. The itch to explore hit her and she reasoned that she could look at the restricted section any time. Dumbledore's dark guidebooks could wait. She stood from her seat and tapped the time turner with her wand. Hattie had found a spell that sped up processes as long as necessary. It would be unreasonable to turn the dial manually the thousands of times it would require to get her where she wanted to go.

She closed her eyes to suppress the vertigo from traveling this quickly. Almost a minute passed and Hattie peeked into a still room.

Her disillusionment charm cast, Hattie snuck through the winding bookshelves to _The Daily Prophet_ section. Pulling the day's edition, Hattie saw it was 30 November, 1981, and the front page article was fascinating.

 **Celebration continues through England a month after the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.**

Hattie rolled her eyes. Why not just say his name? People didn't tremble at the name Grindelwald. Voldemort wasn't that terrifying of a surname. Hattie blinked and shook her head. What did that line say?

She read it again, mouth hanging open. Voldemort had been defeated? How, and by whom?

 _Harry Potter's whereabouts are still unknown. We can only assume he has been taken to a safe location where Death Eater presence is low. There have been minor reported attacks over the past month but it seems nothing can deter the raucous celebrations engulfing the country. All we know is Harry Potter is alive and his name will be remembered for generations to come._

Harry Potter? As in _the_ Potter family? Why hadn't she seen anything about him before? He must be incredibly powerful to defeat Lord Voldemort. Potentially the Dumbledore of his time.

Hattie replaced the news article and looked back at 1 November, 1981

She gasped and dropped down on the floor. Harry Potter wasn't an adult at all. He was a child.

 **The Dark Lord Defeated**

 _Last night, at approximately 9pm, the reign of You-Know-Who ended at the modest Potter home in Godric's Hollow. Barely a year old, a killing curse rebounded off of young Harry Potter, hitting You-Know-Who himself. Whatever happened in that room, James and Lily Potter did not make it out alive, but somehow, their child did. Aurors confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is indeed dead on scene. We have also been asked by Magical Law Enforcement to remind you to keep celebration to a minimum and retain any protections you have afforded yourself for at least the next few weeks. More information on Harry Potter and the end of this dark era to come._

 _For information on remaining known Death Eaters, please refer to page seven._

Hattie sank to the floor and crinkled the news article in her palm. How could a child defeat such a prolific dark wizard? Pulling her parchment from her bag, Hattie noted all important information from _The Prophet_. It was anti-climactic. No large battle like Dumbledore and Grindelwald, no clash of good and evil. Just a child and the darkest wizard of all time.

In the months since Hattie learned of Dumbledore's looming defeat of Grindelwald, she had considered her options. Working with fast-coming information was difficult compared to the palatability of decades out. Since her conversation with Dumbledore, she had considered telling him, but refrained. He only asked about Tom and she would work in those specific parameters.

But in the here and now, determining how Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort was of utmost importance. She jotted down a note to continue to search for anything about Harry Potter and The Dark Lord. Presumably trials of followers awaited in the wings. They had to catch at least a few of them. If only she could be there but getting into the Ministry of Magic to watch trials would be nearly impossible unless she convinced an acquaintance to take her to see a separate trial in the same room. That was highly unlikely. What Auror or Wizengamot member would allow a girl to watch the trial of murderous dark wizards? Measly news clippings would have to do.

She replaced the crinkled article and sat quietly against the bookshelves, listening to a clock chime in the background. Hattie fiddled with her wand and rolled her head from side to side. A pounding in her temple built with a vengeance.

After a few minutes of silence, Hattie pushed herself up and wandered over to the informational archives. She opened a book about prominent Ministry officials of the past century.

Tom was undoubtedly brilliant. A life in politics would suit him. He seemed rough and conniving enough. Finding an empty table was easy. Hattie sat down and flipped through the pages. She recognized a multitude of prominent names, but Riddle was mentioned nowhere. Certainly if he'd gone into the Ministry, his work would be notable enough to make it into the archives.

So apparently the Ministry wasn't his direction. Where else would he go? Hattie slammed the book shut and replaced it on the shelves, almost toppling its neighbors.

Tom was an adept potioneer, she reasoned. Hattie moved to the potions section and found a dusty book about prominent potioneers. Foregoing the table this time, Hattie propped the book up in her arms and flipped through the dust coated pages. She smiled at the mention of Slughorn's name. Apparently he would make a name for himself with his masterful crafting of Felix Felicis. Maybe his Slug Club meetings would get her more than a few boring hours in his office. She'd need to make more of an effort with him.

By the end of the book, Hattie was yawning and straining to keep her eyes open.

There was nothing on Tom.

She sighed, returning the book to its home. Hattie felt around her to ensure she had everything with her before pulling out her time turner and beginning the process of heading home.

The world twisted and Hattie covered her eyes with her hand. The nausea was back. Her stomach churned and fell to her knees, clutching her middle.

When everything stopped, Hattie laid motionless in the fetal position. Bright circles of light clouded her vision, coming in and out of focus.

She needed something from Madam Loraine. Anything that might help.

Hattie waited for her symptoms to settle and slowly moved into a seated position. Dropping her head between her knees had been somewhat helpful at mitigating the nausea. As the prickles of light disappeared, Hattie stood using the support of the nearby table. Her knees wavered, threatening to drop her back on the floor.

If only there was somebody she could do this with, somebody to wait for her to return every time she traveled to help her if she needed medical assistance. But it was too dangerous. That would mean divulging what it was she was doing. As loyal as Ada and Charlotte were, they could be susceptible to Riddle's stupid charm. The risk was too great. Enduring the pain was necessary until she found a cure; If there was one.

Hattie stumbled to the Hospital Wing and banged on Madam Loraine's door. Leaning into the wall beside it, Hattie slipped to the ground.

The Hospital Wing matron popped her head outside the door and looked around frantically, mumbling about people interrupting her sleep.

Hattie groaned and Madam Loraine looked down in shock.

"Ms. Selwyn," she gasped, dropping to her knees. "What are you doing down there? And why are you alone? Surely one of your bunkmates was available to bring you here?"

"No," Hattie groaned. "I didn't want to bother them. They were all asleep."

"You're too altruistic for your own good." Madam Loraine called a gurney and Hattie floated limp to the closest bed. "What's troubling you?"

"The same as last time," Hattie whispered, burning red under her stare. "It's happening again."

"I see," Madam Loraine rushed back into her office and emerged a few minutes later with a cocktail of potions. "Drink these, slowly. We don't need them coming back up."

Hattie grimaced at the mental image and drank dutifully. The relief was minimal but it was something.

* * *

Hattie nodded in an out of sleep until she was hit by a ray of light coming in from the sprawling windows. She shot up in bed and looked around desperately, placing her surroundings.

She was in the Hospital Wing. And somebody was standing next to her.

Hattie jerked and reached for her wand against her thigh. It wasn't there. Her blanket tangled around her legs as she fumbled to find her missing wand.

"Ms. Selwyn," Dumbledore said gently. He sat at the foot of her bed and waved his hand. Hattie's wand landed gently in her outstretched palm and she relaxed immediately. "I apologize for frightening you. Letty told me you showed up last night."

"Thank you, sir," Hattie whispered, lying back down. Her spine ached and sitting up was too much effort. It felt like pins were being repeatedly removed and inserted into the center of her spine. "I'm just feeling a bit ill."

"That isn't completely truthful," Dumbledore sighed and motioned for Hattie to drink more of her Pepperup Potion. "Why does this happen when you take your trips?"

Hattie eyed him and looked around the room to see if they were alone. The only other occupant in the room was a sleeping Ravenclaw, wrapped snug in her bed on the other side of the room. Dumbledore silenced the space and motioned for Hattie to continue.

"I don't know, Professor," Hattie drank down the potion and again pushed herself up, maneuvering pillows behind her back. "I feel like I'm dying when it hits. But it only happens sometimes. That's why I was in St. Mungo's before term. And that's why they couldn't determine what was wrong with me. My ailment doesn't have a name and I doubt it's even been discovered yet."

"So you're looking for a cure, I presume," Dumbledore said.

Madame Loraine had informed him of Hattie's consistent illness the previous year and that it was getting worse with time. Originally the nurse had believed Hattie to be developing Dragon Pox but when she didn't develop scaly, discolored skin, she reconsidered. Then it was paranoia and anxiety which was ruled out when no Calming Draught ceased her pain. Madame Loraine was lost and suggested to Dumbledore Hattie visit St. Mungo's should this issue persist.

"I don't know how long it will be until there's a cure. Or if there will ever be one." Grueling hours of research had gone into finding a cure but as of the 1980's, there wasn't one. As Hattie watched Dumbledore, she decided to risk going a little farther in the future, just to see if she could find something.

"Did your mother suffer this ailment?"

"No idea," Hattie pulled the bed cover to her neck. Thinking about her mother was painful enough, but remembering _her_ in pain was even worse. But below that was a gritty anger. How could her mother leave this to her without an inkling of how to treat her unnatural illness.

Dumbledore looked to the entrance of the room. His smile flat-lined and he unsilenced the space.

"Tom," Dumbledore stood to make room for Riddle to sit but he was waved away.

Tom pulled a rickety chair to the front of Hattie's bed and sat down before her. Her eyes bulged and she pulled her knees to herself, attempting to put as much space between them as possible. Him being around her lying in a bed was a bit too familiar to be comfortable. At least last year she had been knocked out cold and didn't see him sitting with her.

"You have a penchant for illness, don't you?" Tom picked up each potion vial and examined them. "It's the same issue as last year." He deduced from the abnormal combination of potions.

Hattie blushed and looked up to Dumbledore who gave her a nod and walked out of the Hospital Wing. Of course he would leave her right when she needed him most.

"I'd lie but you're not stupid enough to believe it," She looked to Tom who was swirling a Pepperup Potion in its vial. "And no, I didn't faint this time, if that's what you're wondering."

Hattie snatched the potion from his hands and put it back on the nightstand. Tom was perfectly still until a small smile tugged at his lips. Hattie's heart leapt as he turned to look at her in his amused state. His body was tense but his face was uncharacteristically relaxed, like he was in his element at her sick bed. Probably because he was clearly in control.

"Are you sure you can't read _my_ mind, Hattie," Tom moved to sit next to Hattie's curled in legs on the bed. "What will I say next?"

Tom leaned into her and Hattie didn't flinch even though every nerve in her body urged her to move away from the looming threat.

"Something about how you can't have your fellow prefect dying on you." Hattie suggested. "Far too inconvenient."

Tom nodded and scooted closer to Hattie. Her eyes flicked towards the other side of the bed. She could get away from him that way if he got closer.

"And what would I say?" Hattie breathed, attempting to distract him. A knot in her stomach tightened and she wasn't certain if she was going to be ill or experiencing something else completely. It wasn't a fully unwelcome feeling.

His gaze fell off the bed and onto the wall, like he was deep in his own mind. "You would tell me you would die to spite me," Tom said in a low, conspiratorial tone. "And that you would see me in Hell." His head suddenly snapped back to Hattie to gauge her reaction.

"You think far too highly of yourself." Hattie threw Tom's line back at him and a small, defiant smile built until Tom was far too close for comfort. As he edged forward his eyes darted between her eyes and her mouth.

Hattie gasped. Tom reached a hand to her face, dragging his knuckles across her cheek and pushing a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers dragged behind her ear and down her neck.

He reached under her collar and entangled his fingers in the time turner chair. Hattie grabbed his hand and held it in place.

"I'm sure it's a lovely necklace," Tom opened his hand, breaking free from Hattie's grip, and dragged his palm across her collarbone, pulling her shirt to the side. "You wear it every day, yes?"

"I do," Hattie's throat dried and her voice came out in an unnatural crackle. "It was my mother's." Hattie reached to stop his roaming hand but Tom continued on anyways.

"I have nothing of my family's," Tom dropped his hold and Hattie breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sure it's - sentimental."

"You do."

"Do what?" Tom looked confusedly at Hattie. He buttoned the top button of Hattie's blouse, covering the chain. Hattie shivered at the gentle contact.

"Have something of theirs," Hattie swallowed but a growing lump obstructed her throat. "You have their blood."

"Their blood," Tom repeated in a low tone, as if trying it out. "My father is a Muggle."

"That's irrelevant," Hattie brought a hand to his shoulder and pulled at non-existent fuzz on his cloak. She watched Tom gaze away and disappear again into his own head so Hattie grabbed his jaw to force his stare. "It doesn't matter, Tom. I only admit this begrudgingly, but you're the most brilliant person at Hogwarts. If your Half-Blood status disqualified you, Orion Black would have surpassed you and I'm not certain he's literate."

Tom stood abruptly, catching the flash of disappointment in Hattie's eyes.

"You'll want to get notes from today's classes. I doubt Dumbledore will let you out of here today." Tom scowled at the thought of Dumbledore having such a tight hold on Hattie. He'd noticed a slight change in their interactions. Dumbledore watched her more carefully than before, not unlike how the Professor looked at him. And seeing him at Hattie's sick bed was enough to confirm that Dumbledore was at least minimally aware of whatever was happening with Hattie.

"Forget that," Hattie stood on shaky legs and grabbed her bag hanging from the side of the bed. "I can't stand it here."

She reached around Tom to collect the remaining potions and toss them haphazardly in her bag.

"Why not?"

"Because you're here." Hattie's knees gave way and Tom wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. She stared up at him, wide-eyed and wary. His brows furrowed and he looked away.

"Unfortunately, I'm everywhere." Tom's hold tightened against her waist as he led them to Divination.


	8. Time and Tea Leaves

Tom's hand lingered against Hattie's lower back as they walked through the halls. Exhaustion was setting in and it was reassuring knowing somebody would catch her if she fell like an idiot. But the thought that it was Tom who was holding an arm near her was simultaneously chilling and exhilarating.

Hattie attempted ignoring the stares they received through the long trek to Divination. Students pointed and a few girls turned their head indignantly, shunning the very thought of Tom and Hattie. Tom noticed too and wrapped his arm decidedly around Hattie's waist, possessive but not improper. The girls stormed off and Tom smirked.

They walked in silence but Hattie was acutely aware of everything being said silently between them. An air of possessiveness lingered as Tom shooed a few students in their way.

Hattie was almost panting by their arrival at the landing. There was a painful stitch in her side, burning her inside out. Her head was foggy and she yearned to drop to the floor and sleep on the cool ground.

"Can you make it up the stairs or would you like me to carry you?" Tom traced a finger up her spine and pulled her against him before pointed decidedly at the stairs. His hands slipped and he rubbed a circle at the base of her back. Tom raised an eyebrow when he grabbed a chunk of robe and she lacked any response, not even a look in her eyes, which he thoroughly searched. Death was more emotive than Hattie Selwyn in that moment. Tom took her silence as an invitation and gently pushed her back against the wall. One arm was wrapped tightly around her waist and the other climbing up her arms to tangle in her matted hair.

Hattie's face hardened into a scowl and she shoved him away with a low guttural growl that made her stomach flip. "You really enjoy doing that when anybody could show up and catch us, don't you?"

"There's no need to be concerned. Nobody is here to see what we just did. I'd hope you wouldn't think me so improper," Tom clasped his hands behind his back and looked down his nose at her. "Besides, Hattie, you've done quite a few things to me that disqualify you from holding a moral high ground in this regard. If I recall correctly, which I'm _certain_ I do, you have a fascination with loosening my tie while sitting in my lap. And that's only what I can recall off the top of my head."

Tom had watched her closely out of the corner of his eyes as they'd made their way to class. This morning she was particularly on edge. Wringing her hands and her eyes darted every which way, shooting menacing glares at anybody who dared stare as they passed. Either it was a byproduct of her odd, incurable illness or she was falling back into her erratic nature from last year. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

Tom swallowed looking at her devil-may-care aesthetic. Her hair wild from a night in the Hospital Wing and her uniform obnoxiously askew from fits of fever and nightmares if he remembered correctly from the last time. But either way, anybody would recognize that she was acceptable looking. He wasn't blind.

Hattie Selwyn had been taking up an uncomfortable amount of space in his mind over the past weeks. Well, that wasn't completely accurate. He'd been thinking about her for almost a year and to his dismay and frustration, he couldn't place what exactly it was she was doing. But legal he was sure it wasn't. And private he was sure it was. That is why he needed to know. If she had a nefarious secret he could use, he needed it, and soon. Tom was desperately close to opening the Chamber of Secrets and if Hattie had anything he could use, even just her mind, he needed it. He conceded that she was also reasonably intelligent considering she had somehow successfully kept him blind to her secret endeavors. Not that he would ever speak of it to her and provide her with the wrong idea.

"Don't carry me," Hattie handed him her book bag lazily and he complied. The weight of her books pulled heavy on her back, still weakened from the night before. "Maybe I'll fall on you and end both our misery." The bite in her voice wavered and the rugged shiver in her spine hadn't dissipated after she broke from Tom's touch.

Not to mention, their friendly walk through the halls had been too much and certainly too personal in appearance. If the engagement rumors failed to resurface, she would transfigure herself into bait and jump into the Black Lake.

"I've heard independent women are quite sought after nowadays," Tom's face was menacingly blank, like he was mocking her.

Hattie waited impatiently for a follow up comment before rolling her eyes and climbing up the stairs into the Divination classroom. Her muscles railed against it but she climbed nonetheless.

Unfortunately, Tom was correct. The manner in which they behaved together was wholly inappropriate and her mother would certainly be disgusted with her unabashed - _affection_ \- in public. But worse, if her Aunt discovered what she had been doing, she might find herself out on the street. Tradition was a rampant disease in the family. The time turner was a perfect representation of her impractical and troublesome familial expectations.

When Tom reached the top, Hattie snatched her bag and plopped down next to Ada and Charlotte. She crossed her arms lackadaisical and gazed at the front of the room, hoping Tom wouldn't take a spot beside to her. Thankfully, he didn't. He sat down beside Nott, Malfoy, and Avery without so much as acknowledging them.

Hattie raised her hand to her friends. "I know what you're about to say and the answer is no, Hospital Wing, and not dying." Hattie shoved her arm into her bag and remembered she hadn't returned to her room to collect her book. "Happy no-"

Hattie's voice trailed away as she glanced towards Ada, watching Avery as if he torched her childhood home. He seemed acutely aware of her glare too. Julius subtly turned his head her direction before dragging his stool to face away from Ada.

"Ada," Hattie's voice cracked with concern. "What's going on?"

The whole group of Slytherins in the room were clouded in eerie silence. The men were crowded as far away as possible from Ada, Charlotte, and Hattie which was uncommon. Avery was constantly finding reasons to mingle with Ada and Nott seemed to do the same to Charlotte, especially during useless classes like Divination. In those interactions, Tom and Hattie would sit on opposite sides of the group, sharing emotive smirks between themselves as their peers interacted. We're like bitter parents watching their kids find love while we're waiting for the opportunity to murder one another, Hattie thought despondently.

"Hush, Hattie," Charlotte hissed and tossed her own Divination textbook her direction. Hattie realized Charlotte must have brought it up for her but the vitriol in her tone rang warning bells in Hattie's mind. What the hell happened in the twenty four hours she was away from them? "I don't want to hear anything from you at the moment."

"Charlotte," Hattie whispered, crushed by the disgusted tone in her voice. "Please." Charlotte only turned away with a huff and dug in her bag for the rest of her supplies.

Without a word, Ada stood and grabbed Hattie by the arm, pulling her up too with an undignified jerk. Ada stalked towards the circular trap door and tossed it open right when Professor Windfell burst dramatically from her office.

"I sense a disturbance in the aura of the room," Professor Windfell dropped her hands from the sky like a misshapen ballerina and turned to Hattie and Ada who were in the process of dropping down to the floor below the classroom. "Leaving so soon?"

Professor Windfell was a scrawny, hunched over woman with a neurotic look in her eye. Every year, she made a point of reminding her students she was fourth cousins with Cassandra Vablasky. Ada had once commented that it didn't mean much since everybody was basically related at this point. Windfell harbored a distaste for Ada after that day.

Ada's sour face morphed into a practiced, polite smile as she guided Hattie back into the room.

"We just needed some fresh air but it can wait until the end of class."

"I think so," their Professor nodded and motioned for everybody to move in close. The Hufflepuffs, wary of the out of sorts Slytherins, huddled together and moved forward. Some of the girls looked between Hattie and Tom, trying to garner any sense of how the two were interacting.

Hattie scowled. Clearly nobody had anything better to do that gawk at her like she was in the London Zoo. Screw Riddle for showing any semblance of interest in her. Being the center of attention in any capacity was dangerous. It just brought people closer and that was the opposite of what Hattie needed to keep her work private.

The Slytherins retained their spots until Tom stood casually and wandered to the front of the room. The other men immediately followed suit. Hattie eyd their overtly reverent looks. Tom's friends gazed at him like he was a burning light in the stifling darkness.

Charlotte took a few steps away from Hattie and looked laser focused on Professor Windfell's lesson. That was obviously bullshit. Charlotte thought Divination was a waste of valuable time and brain space. She just wanted the extra O.W.L. It was then, Hattie realized, that something must be horribly wrong.

"Today we will be reading tea leaves and I would like to give a little refresher since you haven't dabbled in this art in months," Professor Windfell scanned the disinterested room and landed right on Hattie who was sinking to the back of the crowd. "Ms. Selwyn, why don't you join me up front."

The class turned to stare at Hattie, relieved they were spared an embarrassing reading from the Professor. Murmurs rippled through the class as Tom edged his way forward towards Hattie.

Tom suddenly stood next to her. He looked down at her with a devilish smirk and pushed his hand against her back, edging her forward. Robes askew from his shove, Hattie adjusted her outfit indignantly and joined Professor Windfell at the front of the room. When she turned to glare back on Tom, his face was stone cold except for the glint in his eye telling her he was loving every second of this.

Hattie selected a dainty, floral tea cup from the display against the wall. She carried it to the front and her Professor poured her a cup. She took a hasty breath, willing away the stitch lingering from earlier. It did nothing but shoot daggers down her side.

"Drink," Windfell instructed Hattie.

This was unbelievable, Hattie thought. She looked like hell and Ada and Charlotte were furious for reasons she couldn't even begin to image. Now she had to stand in front of a crowd of pretentious Slytherins and wimpy Hufflepuffs and pretend to see death omens in tea leaves. Maybe if she suggested her immediate demise, Professor Windfell would release her from her clammy grip sooner. Or she could predict Tom's immediate demise. But with what he had been doing lately, she wasn't sure she would be making it up. If he pushed her into the wall one more time, she was liable to snap his wand and rips the limbs from his body.

Hattie looked to Charlotte who was staring at her feet and to Ada who had returned to glaring at Avery. Wrapping his arms around himself, Avery turned to whisper something to Malfoy. Ada jerked forward but Charlotte pulled her into a tight hug around the waist, rooting her in place.

Hattie sighed and drank the stale tasting tea. She peered into the mush at the bottom of the cup and her nausea returned. Stomach lurching, she handed the cup and dregs over.

Windfell turned the cup upside down and closed a eye to examine it. Her face scrunched making her look a bit like a gargoyle.

"Oh dear," Professor Windfell gasped and covered her heart for dramatic flair. "You're bearing a hefty burden but - no - that can't be right."

Hattie closed her eyes and took a stunted breath. At this point she would say anything to move this along. The sooner this came to a close, the sooner she could speak with her friends. Perhaps she could tell Windfell her supposed burden was dealing with handsome boys who thought they could do anything to anyone and get away with it.

"You've developed quite the site," Professor Windfell whispered in awe and handed Hattie the cup. Windfell patted Hattie's flushed cheeks and pulled her face up to look deep into her eyes, searching for anything. It wasn't every day a student's ability for the finer magical arts suddenly arose where it had never been before.

"Professor," Ada stepped forward, shattering Windfell's contemplative trance. "Please let go of Hattie." Her voice cracked as she motioned for Hattie to come towards her, away from their Professor. But Hattie remained rooted in place, staring down Windfell.

Windfell dropped her hands from Hattie's burning face. She took one last searching glance in the cup and handed it to Hattie, who looked into the dregs and frowned. How anybody read anything from this was a miracle. If she turned it to the side it looked a bit like a table with a candelabra standing the middle.

"What brought on this site child?"

Hattie wanted to roll her eyes. Infantilizing her might create an ambiance of awe and mystery but it made Hattie want to growl in frustration.

"Natural ability?" She offered with a meek shrug, hoping a cowering approach would get her out of the spotlight.

"No, no, no. This is learned," her Professor pointed to a spot on the corner of the cup. "This represents perfecting a skill. And in your case it appears to be the site. Do you see that eye, right - there?"

Hattie's eyes bulged and her mouth dropped into a 'O'. It did look a bit like an eye. The nausea rose again as her stomach twisted in knots. No, her Professor must have put that in her head. How could this be happening? This conversation was turning in a direction Hattie didn't want to face.

"And this," Professor Windfell tipped the cup and pointed directly in the middle. "Is time."

Hattie stepped back and let the tea cup slip through her fingers. It shattered into dozens of jagged pieces on the floor, making a few of the Hufflepuffs jump in surprise. Hattie's hand flew to her throat, feeling for the time turner below her jumper. Professor Windfell was too close. Could any idiot put it together? Hopefully her classmates lacked the faith in the practice of Divination she possessed until just seconds ago.

Hattie's throat dried and she strained to breathe normally. Luckily, Ada stepped up and grabbed her. She had yet to remove her hand from her neck, desperately confirming that the time turner was lodged safely between her shirt and burning skin.

"Hattie was ill earlier, Professor. Let me take her back to the Hospital Wing," Ada rubbed Hattie's arms and pulled her protectively into her grasp so she wouldn't resume staring down their Professor. Ada already distrusted Professor Windfell so deeply but she had clearly done something unexplainable to Hattie and she wouldn't stand for it.

"I'll take Ms. Selwyn," Tom offered valiantly. A few of the Hufflepuff girls giggled. He strode forward and offered an arm to Hattie. Ada's grip lightened and she nudged Hattie forwards toward Tom's outstretched arm with a conflicted look.

Hattie turned and gave a pleading stare to Ada. If she was putting things together, the probability was high Hattie wouldn't like the outcome.

Hattie shoved past Tom and tossed open the trapdoor. The Hospital Wing was not her intended destination. She dropped the last quarter of the way down the ladder and took off at a brisk pace.

She was positive Tom followed close behind but didn't bother to confirm. If Tom wanted to follow her, fine. The Divination room had started to close in on her and getting away was the only option. The halls were less constricting and the feeling of being trapped dissipated. Unfortunately, it was replaced by the feeling of being stalked by a deadly predator.

The Slytherin Common Room was completely silent. Every student was occupied with classes. It was eerie, the glow that emanated from the room when nobody filled it with conversation and laughter. But Hattie chose this place for a purpose, if Tom intended on confronting her, he wouldn't have the pleasure of questioning her in front of twenty other students. Were something to come out during their conversation that could put Hattie in jeopardy she would actually murder Riddle.

"Will you ever keep your obnoxiously upturned nose out of other people's business?" Hattie spun on Riddle. "Maybe you would look a little better without that annoying look in your eye like everything is interesting and a waste of time simultaneously."

"I've told you before," Tom twisted his fingers around her wrists and directed her to the closest couch. "Don't you listen?" He tugged her gently but her grip was tight enough to force her movement.

"Not to you," Hattie gritted her teeth and wriggled her arms from Tom's grasp. He immediately grabbed her again and pulled her into him. He intertwined his fingers in the fabric at her lower back, securing her in place. "You have no shame and it's none of your business. I'm sticking to that." Unsure of what to do with her arms, they hung lamely at her side.

"Disappointing," Tom dropped his head and whispered against her ear. Something sparked in him as Hattie's heart raced against his chest. How easy it was to get this kind of reaction out of her. "I'm sure I could persuade you otherwise but I quite like listening to you tell me off - and I wouldn't allow that with many people. You ought to consider it a compliment."

Hattie released a rough breath. Tom was alarmingly warm against her and it was comforting being held. Shouldn't he be cold and lifeless like his mundane personality? No, that wasn't accurate. Nothing about Tom Riddle was mundane.

"I would rather be locked away in St. Mungo's for the rest of my natural life than accept a compliment from the _great_ prefect Tom Riddle." She couldn't think of Riddle as anything but a danger lurking in the darkness, plotting the perfect time to strike, but she'd be a liar if she didn't admit to the pleasant sensation of his touch..

If she was so desperate for something physical she could find a nice Ravenclaw. Or perhaps her Aunt and Uncle had marital plans after all and she would never need to make a choice of her own. That would probably be ideal. She couldn't even look into a teacup without breaking down.

"So you wouldn't accept me informing you your green eyes are - luminescent?" He ran the back of his hand under her eyes, against the heavy bags lingering there. His lips played at a smirk, thinking he'd won.

Hattie laughed and threw her head back. Something seemed to have broken inside her and she couldn't stop the raucous, unhinged laughter. "Your blatant attempt at flattery makes you look like a desperate, arrogant school boy with nothing better to do that try and get the attention a disinterested school girl."

"If you're so disinterested we wouldn't do this time and time again," Tom stated plainly.

"I'm playing along, Riddle. And this time, our chances of being caught are significantly lower. Besides, who would ever believe what we do when nobody's looking?" Hattie considered pulling away but she had a point to make. One that couldn't be done by cowering away like a dog with his tail between his legs. "But let me tell you now so you understand in no uncertain terms. I will only ever do what _I_ decide to. Think what you will about your talent for flattery and flirtation, but know that no matter what you do, you will never have any power over me. I won't allow it."

"You're challenging me," Tom's smirk only grew with every passing second of Hattie's declaration. After a few moments, he sat down on the couch and pulled her on top of him so that she was straddling his legs. She grabbed his shoulders for support and pushed him against the couch which only seemed to please him more.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Tom mused aloud.

"Not in the least," Hattie answered honestly before spinning off of his lap and sitting beside him.

It was silent for a few minutes until Tom wrapped a hand around her waist and she gasped. Hattie understood immediately something had changed between them but she couldn't place exactly what. This was the first time Tom had casually placed an arm at her waist. It didn't seem aggressive or assuming like times before. Tom pulled her close enough that she could feel the heat on his body but not so close that anybody wandering in might think their interaction improper. Hattie shook her head. He was the best actor she had ever met.

She looked at him in awe and he smirked, giving her waist a squeeze. "Don't worry, darling. I know _exactly_ what I'm doing."

It was a statement and a promise all in one.

After a few more passing moments, Hattie turned her head towards Tom to smile. Taking a page from his book seemed only logical. "Then show me the way, Tom Riddle."

"Wise decision," Tom said, touching on her earlier declaration.

This was certainly a development she could use to her advantage.


	9. Brainless Oafs

That afternoon, Ada and Charlotte stormed into the Slytherin Common Room, furious that Hattie never arrived at the Hospital Wing. When they went to check on her during lunch, Madame Loraine was beside herself that Hattie escaped without an official release notice.

Tom glanced up from his book and dropped it safely in his bag. Ada and Charlotte stopped and stared at the unusual sight. A smile tugged at Tom's lips as he stood, dragging his arm leisurely across Hattie's back as he went. She looked up at him questioningly as he grabbed her fingers like he was going to kiss her hand. They lingered near his lips momentarily until he dropped it with nothing but a nod as he turned away from the three women.

The room was overwrought with uncomfortable silence as Tom headed towards the boys dormitory. Nobody dared speak before they were certain they were alone.

"You're lying to us," Charlotte stepped in front of Ada. Her face twisted with discontent. "You're seeing Tom."

"I wouldn't quite say that," Hattie said. In all honestly, her twisted relationship with Riddle was something she wasn't positive needed a definition. It wasn't real, thus needed no explanation.

And if Hattie understood Tom half as well as she believed she did, he wasn't taking part in whatever it was they were doing with no reason.

"We hadn't exactly solidified whatever it was we were doing." Hattie reasoned, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"So not only are you sneaking around with Riddle after you promised us you weren't," Ada started. "You're also avoiding necessary medical treatment - again."

"I'm not -,"Hattie began but was promptly cut off by Ada's raised hand. As long as she dragged Ada and Charlotte away from the topic of Tom, she could handle anything they threw at her.

"You are," Ada said, unwilling to take any more misinformation. "This isn't about your mother anymore, is it?"

Straight to the point as Ada always was.

Hattie took a quick step back, shaken by the sudden declaration. In a sense, Ada was correct. It wasn't just about her mother anymore. It grew so much larger in the past month and was getting difficult to contain. Simpler times lay behind. Hattie was no longer in control of her situation.

"Not entirely," Hattie looked right in Ada's gaze, hoping for anger but instead found an acute sadness she hadn't seen since the term after Hattie's mother passed.

"What's really going on?" Charlotte looked down to the floor and dug her foot into the green and silver rug, pushing it out of place. "I'm not okay finding out you suddenly died one night."

"I'm not dying," Hattie's voice cracked and she wished she could say it with more conviction. A lump in her throat formed considering what her odd illness was doing to her body. Truthfully, she had no clue whether or not she was dying. It was best in her mind not to think about it. Just like her real age. She would ignore it until she couldn't anymore. "Nobody will die under the school's watch. I'm perfectly safe."

"Well your frequent overnights at the Hospital Wing make me a little concerned it's more serious than anything fixed with a Pepperup Potion," Ada sighed and ran her hands over her eyes. "While you were cozy with Tom at the Hospital Wing this morning, his friends cornered us and mentioned some things that concerned us."

Hattie's stomach lurched. What could Tom's goons possibly have said to them? And that's why Tom was being so comforting today. He was distracting her to create an opportunity for his lackeys to confront Charlotte and Ada. Tom wanted information and was using every fathomable means of getting it. Of course he was. Disgust crept up in Hattie's stomach with herself and with Tom as well. She should have known.

"What did those brainless oafs do?" Hattie shoved past Ada and Charlotte, tearing her wand from her robes. "Where are they? I'm going to hex them into next week. And Riddle, that manipulative prat. I'm going to do unspeakable things to him."

A myriad of hexes floated through her mind. Hattie took a moment to consider the most appropriate in this situation and where she could do it to go unnoticed by the staff, or God forbid, another prefect.

Charlotte grabbed Hattie before she could escape the Common Room. Tears dripped down her pale face and Hattie's heart stalled to a slow, reverberating thud. What in Merlin's name had those idiots done to them?

"Tell me," Hattie commanded as her friends led them up the stairs to their dormitory for a little more privacy as students started filing inside for the remainder of their lunch hour. It was a good thing too because Tom stood out of view on the boys staircase, listening to the entirety of their conversation.

* * *

 _That Morning_

Ada and Charlotte sat in their dormitory. Neither had seen Hattie in over twenty four hours. She usually returned by midnight on Sundays and Charlotte was always awake waiting for her, even if Hattie was unaware.

Midnight came quickly and left even quicker. Charlotte sat in bed, fiddling with her wand until about one.

Wrapping herself in her fluffy robe, she padded down to the Common Room, not caring if Hattie found her up waiting.

The only sound heard that hour was the sloshing of the lake and the crackling of the dying fire. Charlotte stared into space, willing herself to remain awake.

School wasn't going well for her this term. Something about the O.W.L.S was throwing her off and the extra hours of studying were doing little to remedy it.

It had been difficult since Mrs. Selwyn's death. Hattie was moody, secretive, and unpredictable. Ada was good at dealing with the emotional side but it left Charlotte dealing with everything else. Like making sure Hattie ate at least a few times a week or taking care of her when she refused to go to the Hospital Wing after a weird bout of illness.

Then there was the matter of Andrew. Charlotte was positive Ada was blind to the conversations her parents were having with her own. There wasn't anything wrong with Andrew, but he never seemed interested in her other than her role as his sister's friend. It didn't seem appropriate to talk with Ada or Hattie about it. Especially not if Hattie was reverting back into her self-destructive phase. And certainly not with Ada's volatile situation with Avery.

By two that morning, Charlotte was melting down and woke Ada, flushed from bounding up the stairs. After a few choice words, the pair waited in the Common Room in silent camaraderie.

Hattie didn't return.

Ada picked at her nails, ignoring Charlotte's incessant pacing. Hours passed before she sat down once more. Everything swirled in Charlotte's head and if she didn't move, she would break down to Ada and confess everything.

At six, the budding morning light refracted through the murky water, casting a warm, flowing glow on the room. The pair drifted in and out of sleep on the emerald couches until awoken by Tom striding confidently across the room and into the hall.

By eight, Hattie hadn't resurfaced and Charlotte was beside herself with worry.

"What if she's sick or injured or dead?" Charlotte circled the Common Room over and over again, pulling desperately at the ends of her flyaway hair. "She could be alone and do something she'll regret. What if she rips the Owlry apart - again? What if she's sitting in the freezing lake - again?"

"We don't know that, Charlotte," Ada slurred. Her stomach rolled with exhaustion pains. "Maybe she fell asleep in the library?" How Charlotte was able to comprehend her at all was unfathomable. She barely recognized the cracking and slurring of her voice in her exhausted state.

Charlotte palmed tears from her eyes. Whether it was losing Hattie or the pressure of everything else in her life, she didn't know.

"We'll find her," Ada rolled from her couch and stumbled toward Charlotte, cupping her cheeks and sharing a reassuring smile. "Don't you think we'd know if she was in danger?" Ada despised lying to Charlotte, but if she fell apart, there wouldn't be any way of talking sense into her.

"Let's find her," The determination in her voice wavered as she looked around hopelessly one final time, wishing Hattie had suddenly joined them in the room.

They grabbed their supplies, and Hattie's, for the day and quickly dressed before running out of the Common Room. Their look certainly wasn't up to Ada's standards but she lacked any motivation to rectify it.

* * *

The pair checked Hattie's standard haunts. The library was empty, the Owlry vacant, and the lake rippled, undisturbed in the early morning light.

"Maybe she went to breakfast," Ada rubbed Charlotte's back. She was getting hysterical again. The worse she would become the longer they went without Hattie.

They burst into the Great Hall and quickly realized Hattie wasn't present. The Slytherins eyed them suspiciously as they craned their neck to search. Many turned subtly towards Ada and Charlotte to listen to their conversation should they have one.

Ada cursed under her breath like the lady she was and grabbed Charlotte to stand guard outside. They might be able to catch Hattie if she came in, Ada reasoned with herself.

With a final look back into the Great Hall, Ada noticed one other concerning thing. Tom was absent as well. Ada sighed and crossed her arms, donning a vicious scowl, daring anybody to speak with her.

"Ms. Prewett," Cantankerous Nott stepped in front of them and smiled down at Charlotte. She blushed and looked down at her feet. "Do you have a moment?"

Nott was a tall and slightly gangly boy, often obscured by such imposing figures as Riddle and Malfoy who naturally dragged attention towards themselves. Charlotte blinked quickly and gave Ada's arm a squeeze, waiting for agreement.

Ada gave her a weak smile.

Nott had taken interest in Charlotte since the end of last term and Ada had yet to decide how she felt about him. Forgetting his presence in a room was common and she made a note to pay closer attention. Especially considering Charlotte seemed mildly interested. He certainly seemed better than Julius, at least.

Charlotte and Nott disappeared around the corner. Ada leaned casually against the wall and picked at her nails, subtly looking up for any sign of Hattie and Tom.

* * *

After nearly fifteen minutes, Charlotte hadn't returned and a pang of uncertainty struck Ada in her sleep deprived state. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to let Nott lead Charlotte to an undisclosed location. Charlotte was overly trusting and had the horrible habit of giving everybody the benefit of the doubt ten times over. It burned her before and Ada suddenly felt like her stomach had dropped to the floor.

Something wasn't right.

Ada moved leisurely down the hall as not to attract any unnecessary attention. She ambled, looking around at the portraits who gave her odd glances in return.

Around the corner, Charlotte's hands flailed and Nott raised his hands, surrendering to her yells. And she was certainly yelling. Her voice echoed through the hall and a few students turned their heads to listen as they scurried by.

"What the bloody hell's going on here?" Ada raised her voice to capture their attention and took a protective step in front of Charlotte to put a barrier between her and Nott.

"What are you three doing?" Malfoy and a pack of older Slytherins walked towards them.

"I was asking Ms. Prewett about a personal matter," Nott took a step back to accommodate the other Slytherins slipping in. They formed a half circle around Charlotte and Ada, who immediately reached for her wand. She snapped her eyes down to see that Charlotte had not.

"You also asked about Hattie," Charlotte corrected.

"What about Hattie?" Ada growled. She had learned long ago that the way to get what you wanted out of these boys was to make it sound like you were challenging them, daring them to tell you. It was honestly pathetic that none of them could have a mature conversation, except Tom of course; He was always temperate, pleasant even.

"We've noticed she wanders around and lands places she shouldn't be after hours," Avery inclined his head towards Ada, speaking directly to her. "Why is she always coming back so late?"

"That doesn't sound very prefect-like to me," A menacing sixth year pushed his way to the front of the crowd and Ada's blood chilled. When had he joined their little crew?

She wasn't afraid of many people but there was something about this man that made her back tighten and body burn to run. Whispers in the halls had crafted an unfavorable picture of him: Ruthless, wealthy, intelligent, and dangerous. And Ada was really only fond of three of those things in her men.

"Not your problem, Lestrange," Ada's grip on her wand tightened at her side. She held it slightly behind her back, hoping the boys hadn't noticed her pull it. "I'm happy to see they finally let you into their little group. God knows you've been wanting it long enough."

"Adalina," Lestrange drawled. Inciting her full name to get exactly the reaction he wanted. He pushed his tongue into his cheek, thinking. "As mouthy as ever, I'm happy to see."

The boys looked around the empty hallway before moving closer. Ada and Charlotte were practically scraping against the wall. Charlotte more so because Ada was still holding her out of reach from Nott who had dropped his head towards the ground.

Ada couldn't recall seeing much of Lestrange this year. He'd gotten taller, so much so he was the largest in the group. His dark hair mirrored her own but it infuriated her that he looked much more put together than she did at the moment. There should never be a reason to give anybody that kind of advantage over you.

Lestrange and Ada were focused solely on one another. Teeth gritted, they looked like angry dogs. The rest of the group seemed momentarily interested in the silent conversation happening but moved on soon enough.

"Selwyn's spending quite a bit of time with Tom," Malfoy's eyes fell down on Ada's wand and he instinctively reached for his own. "We're just interested. Especially considering the rumors around the school these past months. Would you know anything about that?"

"What are you insinuating, Malfoy?" Knowing perfectly well what he was insinuating. Ada wrapped her free arm around Charlotte's and dragged her to the side to escape the concave. Malfoy stepped in their way and frowned down at their pathetic escape attempt..

"We're just thinking there's something more happening here," Malfoy moved aside and held his arm out dramatically, indicating they were free to pass. "And if it is, and you're hiding it, you're helping her break the rules."

"Well then, Tom is too," Ada returned to eyeing Lestrange's every move, even though she snapped at Malfoy. "Maybe you should go interrogate him."

"Do you know where Hattie is right now?" Charlotte popped her head over Ada's shoulder and looked directly at Nott, knowing he was the only one who might consider answering.

"With Tom," Nott responded with a quick look up at Charlotte.

"I hope you all get your head bashed in with bludgers next Quidditch match," Ada waved them away. The sleepless night was wearing on her. For a split second she considered abandoning her classes to sleep the remainder of the day away. But Hattie was still somewhere with Tom and she needed to understand what was going on.

Avery reached his hand toward Ada as his friends turned to leave and she smacked it away. He jerked it in to nurse the red mark forming on his fingers.

"Get your sleazy arse out of here," Ada pointed her wand between Avery's eyes and flicked it. Brilliant blue sparks cascaded down his face, singing his robes. "For the hundredth time, I don't want anything to do with you."

"So desperate, Julius," Lestrange chided. He pulled Ada's free hand up and expertly grazed his lips against her knuckles. Ada's mouth fell open as he winked at her. "Can't you tell she isn't interested?" He turned to Julius, who had no answer in return, and smiled.

"Leave him alone, Lestrange," Malfoy warned.

Julius' face went bright red and he hurriedly walked away from the group.

Charlotte and Ada took their opportunity and bolted from the bickering boys. They teetered towards Divination in silence. Part shock and part fatigued.

"I'm going to murder them in their sleep," Ada whispered to a shell-shocked Charlotte as they arrived in class. "What did Nott say to you?"

"Nothing of importance," Charlotte looked straight ahead until Hattie and Tom entered the class a few minutes later. Then, and only then, she dropped her eyes and choked back tears.

* * *

The dormitory was momentarily silent as Charlotte and Ada finished telling Hattie their tale.

"Charlotte," Hattie pulled her into a hug and felt warm tears dripping down her cheek. "I'm so sorry. Tom came to me. Not the other way around. I'm going to rearrange every bone in his body."

"Don't bother," Charlotte said. "Just tell us what's going on. As ridiculous as that lot is, I think they're onto something. We need to know. We can't keep fearing you're lying dead somewhere."

Hattie pulled away and held her hands on Charlotte's shoulder. She oozed sincerity and it was crushing knowing Hattie had to hurt her further.

"I can't, I'm sorry," Hattie whispered and lightly pushed Charlotte away before crawling into her four poster, intent on skipping the rest of the day's classes.


	10. Ambiguous Agreements

"I promised from the start I'd be entirely honest with each of you. I intend to keep that promise, be it praise or less." Tom circled his followers that night. He had set up camp in the Room of Requirement the previous year, shortly after discovering it. It was excellent for meetings not appropriate for most of his school mates. He only wished he'd found it sooner.

He'd immediately called for a late night meeting when Malfoy reported their disastrous conversation with Hattie's friends. His Knights spent dinner bickering amongst each other and avoiding Tom's disappointed glances.

Hattie had sat by herself at the far end of the Slytherin table, far away from Charlotte and Ada. She had kept her eyes trained on Tom the entirety of the meal. He only gave her the satisfaction of a glance once as he passed by her spot on the way out of the hall.

"Goodnight, Ms. Selwyn," Tom had said as he strode from the room, followed by a few choice girls who had noticed something amiss between Hattie and Tom. They were like vultures, circling dead prey for their chance to strike.

Unfortunately they would never have an opportunity. He lost them somewhere between the third and fourth floor and by the time he stood at the entrance of the Room of Requirement, they were long gone.

"To be frank, I'm disappointed," Tom twisted his wand between his fingers, admiring its unique craftsmanship. It was different, better than his followers'.

Tom's Knights cringed into themselves. Like squirrels making themselves as physically small as possible in the presence of a hunting dog. But Tom noticed that one specific person made no move to cower away. Lestrange stood tall, a light gleaming in his eyes, staring right at Tom. Somehow emboldened by the fear and distrust brewing around him. He smirked as Tom gave him a curt nod.

The boys looked among the group to see if anybody would say something in their defense, but nobody dared. Lestrange, the tallest of the group, looked over the heads of his fellow Slytherins. They really were pathetic.

Tom assessed the room. It was always most effective selecting the person cowering away most. That was how he invoked the reaction you wanted from the group. Confuse them into believing that no amount of fear and deference could save them when they failed him.

"Well, what do you have to say?" Tom stopped in front of the group of Knights huddled together. "Nott?" Cantankerous shook his head and scooted behind Malfoy who shoved him away. "Not even you, Malfoy?"

Another head shake so fast, Malfoy's overgrown hair toppled over his eyes. It didn't look like he'd combed it in days and Tom grimaced at his disheveled look.

Tom sighed, feigning thought. He dropped into his plush armchair and crossed his legs. Even though he sat and they stood, he felt immensely more powerful. They'd always been weak. It was easy convincing them they wanted the same things when he promised them everything. And he would give it to them, in time, and in moderation. Getting ahead of themselves wouldn't do anybody any good.

"Is nobody - _brave_ enough to step forward and explain why my brilliant Knights traumatized Prewett and Bellchant, causing t hem to run directly in Selwyn's warm, protective arms?" Challenging them was always the best way to get what he wanted. And he _always_ got what he wanted.

Tom's temper bubbled but he crushed it like a bug on asphalt. It wouldn't do to lash out at minor setbacks. That wouldn't set the tone he wanted with his Knights. They needed to see he possessed at least some semblance of humanity. Luckily a relationship with Hattie would assist with that, but again, he was getting ahead of himself.

Avery stepped forward, eyes memorizing the floor and arms wrapped protectively around his middle. "They don't know anything about what Selwyn's doing, My Lord."

"Is that so?" Tom pushed out of the chair and stood to loom directly over Avery. He could almost feel Avery's heart and mind racing under his burning eyes. "Should I be concerned about bias on your part, Avery?" Tom cocked his head and reveled in Avery's fear. His mouth opened and closed but words failed him.

"No, My Lord," Avery finally mumbled nearly incoherently. "They don't know. They were shocked hearing Selwyn isn't being completely honest with them. They don't know why she's running around the castle after hours."

"And I'd presume your relationship with Bellchant leaves you in a strong position to assume she wasn't lying," Tom's tone cut through the air like a crack of a whip. It echoed through the room and pulled his Knights tighter into his reign.

Tom's eyes flicked to Lestrange who had an odd look on his face. A mixture of anger and annoyance.

A few of the Knights sniggered behind Avery whose face darkened into a deep blush. Ruby red in stark contrast with his green Slytherin robes.

Tom's Knights were overjoyed with the degradation of others but couldn't handle it themselves. They were all hypocrites, Tom knew.

"Correct," Avery nodded.

"Well, I'm feeling particularly merciful tonight, Knights," Tom circled the group and pushed a foot into Nott's kneecap. He stumbled comically backwards into the ranks of followers.

Tom's progress with Hattie had been excellent and he was confident that this bumble was something he could simply talk his way out of. "But don't consider failing me again because I don't forgive as easily a second time."

They mumbled in agreement and fell into conversation about classes as they filed out of the Room of Requirement, pleased they weren't punished further for their indiscretion. Tom knew they would be past it in a day or two and back to eating out of the palm of his hand. Plus, a Slug Club meeting was coming up and it was an opportunity to show his Knights how far they can go following his path.

"Tom," Augustus Lestrange threw himself down on an oversized couch that appeared out of thin air before Tom's armchair. "I think we should chat."

"I always have time to listen," Tom shifted his tone completely from just moments before. It was light and conversational. "Especially for my most worthwhile friends."

Tom sat across from Lestrange and motioned for him to begin. He hoped it was worth his time. He had better things to do than talk nonsense with another one of his brainless followers.

"I think I'm better suited to get information out of Bellchant than Avery," Lestrange pursed his lips with an astute confidence that pleasantly surprised Tom. There was a certainty in Lestrange's tone indicating a rigid desire to succeed. "I know you assigned it to him but Adalina will respond better to me."

"How?" Tom cut right to the point.

"I saw the way she looked at me this morning," Lestrange smirked. "She couldn't take her eyes off me while Avery bumbled around like a lovesick dog. It's pathetic really, how hopeless he is."

Tom contained the smirk growing on his lips. Clearly he and Lestrange thought along similar lines.

"Let me work on her myself, without the others knowing." The excitement in Agustus' voice rose with each breath. "Prewett is a lost cause. I don't think Selwyn would entrust her with any important information. She has no tact. But Adalina does."

"You think she knows something already?" Tom imagined it was possible that his Knights hadn't intimidated Bellchant at all and instead made her more determined to contain whatever secret Hattie was hiding, if she knew it.

"I'm not certain, but if Selwyn tells anybody, it would be her," Lestrange said confidently, leaning back in the couch and tossing a food lazily over his knee. "Adalina and I had a spark, if you know what I mean. Like what you have with Selwyn."

Tom considered his response carefully. A large part of him wanted to lash out at Lestrange for being so forward about his relationship with Hattie. But something about the comment struck him as odd. He'd assumed that the engagement rumors were based solely on boredom and the fact that him and Hattie had spend a reasonably large amount of time together.

Tom believed that he only ever gave Hattie reason to believe there was something there. It had never occurred to him that he could be doing something unconsciously that would indicate to outsiders that there was a real _romance_ somewhere buried in their tumultuous interactions.

"Do you believe the rumors, Lestrange?" Tom asked finally, staring, unblinking at Lestrange.

It caught him off guard and Lestrange readjusted in his seat.

"I thought it was obvious," Lestrange shrugged. "The way you look at each other. It's like you're trying to set each other on fire. It would make sense."

"You're more observant than your classmates give you credit for," Tom's lip twitched at a smile. "But you've failed to notice Bellchant is marrying Avery."

This made Lestrange laugh a loud raucous laugh, clearly enjoying the conversation.

"She's not going to settle for him," Lestrange said. "She nearly hexed him in the halls today while he cowered away from her."

"Like how Selwyn itches to hex me in the halls?"

"It's different and you know it," Lestrange's smile fell an ounce. "I'll get it out of Adalina."

"I'm certain you mean information and nothing else," Tom smiled conspiratorially at Lestrange who lit up at the comment.

"My reputation precedes me," Lestrange took his time getting up from his seat. Nodding at Tom, he headed towards the large doors and into the hall.

When Lestrange closed the door, the room disintegrated and reformed into the shape of a spacious office. Classic, regal, and oversized. Exactly what Tom wanted.

He moved to the desk he'd used the last few months to retain his research. He wasn't foolish enough to keep everything he knew just anywhere in Hogwarts where anybody could find it. And he certainly wasn't stupid enough to keep anything important in the room his Knights could access.

It crossed his mind that if he had found a clever hiding spot, Selwyn had as well. It appeared like he would need to get information directly from the source.

If he could charm Dumbledore into telling him something, he would do it without question, but Dumbledore was far too guarded. Slughorn would potentially take prying questions about Hattie under the guise of an adolescent crush, but his Transfiguration Professor surely would not. Plus, there was no evidence Slughorn knew anything about what Hattie liked to do in her spare time.

Unfortunately, his Knights had given away some of what he had working in his favor. Luckily his silver tongue could get it back.

* * *

"Tom Riddle," Hattie stormed over to Tom reading in his usual corner of the Slytherin Common Room the following evening. She snatched the book from his hands and heaved it across the room. It crashed into a bust of some famous Slytherin Hattie didn't recognize. It teetered on its pedestal before falling back into place. She assumed there was some sort of anti-shattering jinx protecting it from rowdy teenagers. "Get your sleazy arse out of that chair and tell me what the hell you're playing at so I can rearrange every bone in your body."

Tom was agonizingly slow to react. He uncrossed his legs and clasped his hands in his lap. Drawing it out was getting exactly the reaction he wanted. Hattie was before him, knees locked, jaw tight, and fuming where she stood.

She was out for blood and he liked it.

"No," Tom pursed his lips, savoring the words. "But do tell me how you plan to rearrange every bone in my body. I'm impressed, I've not heard that one before."

"Shut it," Hattie stood over Tom and grabbed his collar to force him to look up at her. "Why did you send your minions after Ada and Charlotte?"

He gently pushed her hand away and stood to tower over her. "They told me exactly what they did." Tom said reasonably, like they were discussing the current Quidditch rankings.

Hattie looked up at him with a deep scowl. "They _told_ you."

Hattie turned to the people milling around, waiting for another strange Hattie - Tom blowout. Everything in the Common Room had gone silent. Even though they were writing essays and playing chess, everybody in the room was listening. It was like she'd frozen the entirety of the room.

Malfoy and Avery were sitting a few tables from them and got up to leave when Tom shot them a dangerous glance.

"Go," Hattie pointed between the dormitory and the onlookers, hoping they would follow Malfoy and Avery's lead.

A few students' eyes widened and they hurried away from Hattie's burning glare. A couple stragglers stayed put until Tom waved them away with more grace that Hattie could ever muster.

"You don't own the Common Room," Olive Hornby called from across the room, dipping her quill in her color changing ink.

"And you harass students younger than yourself because you have a horrible home life," Hattie hissed, thinking of what Olive had done to Myrtle and other undeserving students.

Olive looked at her questioningly and quietly packed up her things. She headed up the stairs with no further comment.

Tom snaked his hand around Hattie's waist onto her lower back. She immediately relaxed into it. Hattie admitted begrudgingly that his touch was both comforting and sotic.

"Hattie, darling," Tom started.

"Don't _darling_ me, Tom," Hattie felt her iron-clad resolve fizzle as he motioned for her to sit with him. She refused. "They don't as much as look at anybody without your weird permission."

He smirked at her and quickly rearranged his face to a neutral but interested expression. "I told Avery and Nott they needed to put more effort into their conversations with Ms. Prewett and Ms. Bellchant. It didn't appear they were making much headway and I was hoping they might secure something more serious in the next few years."

"You're involved in your followers' love lives?"

Tom nodded and wrapped his arm tighter around her. She breathed heavy up against his chest, unsure of how she felt with the close contact. He was doing it for control but Hattie wanted to let him. It made her pleasantly numb.

"Why were they asking about me? Now my friends think I'm lying to them," Hattie grazed Tom's free hand and held lightly onto his fingers, making him jump. She needed the truth and making him mildly uncomfortable seemed to work wonders. Unfortunately he recovered quickly and took control to rub her fingers instead.

"Aren't you?" Tom looked down and smirked when she gave him a venomous glare. "Interestingly, that's exactly why they asked your friends about you. They see we're spending time together and wanted to know why. Because I won't tell them."

"You won't?" Hattie was uncertain whether to be flattered or offended.

"Of course not," Tom broke their hands apart and motioned again for Hattie to sit. Dragging her feet, she plopped down on the couch, not breaking eye contact. Any hint of a lie was vacant in his stare. "It's not their business."

"But their romantic entanglements are yours apparently?"

Tom sat down beside her and lazed back against the couch, rolling his head to look at her. Hattie watched him with such unbridled scrutiny he fought from taking her down a peg.

"My relationship with them is different than the one I have with you –"

"I'd hope so," Hattie interrupted. "Do you usually caress your goons?"

"No," Tom emphasized. "I don't _caress_ anybody."

Hattie raised the hand he'd been holding and pointed at it. The blush on her cheeks raged through her snarky comment but she refused to back down.

"You're insufferable," Tom stood and adjusted his robes and prefect pin. He moved to pull Hattie up with him but pulled his hand back. "I won't reward it."

"I don't want your rewards," Hattie pushed hard off the couch and tugged on Tom's pristine robes as she walked around him. Spinning off balance he grabbed her around the waist to hold them both in place.

"I want something else," Hattie was so close to Tom, her neck was craned back painfully looking up at him.

"A ring?" Tom mused. He'd seen how the women around him were fond of their jewelry. Even the girls at the orphanage held tight to lockets from long lost family members or rings they would find washed up in the gutter after a vicious storm. "A new book? Maybe a pet?"

"It's not a thing," Hattie wriggled out of his grasp and he didn't stop her. "I'll forgive you harassing my friends if you teach me."

"Teach you what, exactly?" Tom crossed his arms and stood as straight as a pin. He got a thrill looking down at her. It was different than the thrill of looking down at his followers. Hattie fought back. Not like a trapped animal but as an equal. She gave no regard to who he believed himself to be. And, Tom considered, she probably never would.

"Anything I want to know," Hattie bargained. It was vague enough an agreement that if he agreed, she might pull from the rubble something she really wanted to know.

"What would I get in return?" Tom's eyes squinted at her and she knew she was frustrating him enough he might agree.

"Stop being a prat and maybe I'll tell you." Hattie whispered, fearing somebody might hear from the stairs. It was unbelievable they'd been left alone this long. Word must have spread through the dorms to stay away. But that might be alluring enough that the bigger gossips would listen in.

"Fine," Tom conceded. "What will you offer me?"

Hattie egged him closer and he obliged, meeting her at face level. His forehead was nearly resting on hers. From the outside, it looked far more intimate than it really was.

"Information," She breathed into his ear, barely audible over the sloshing of the water rapping against the windows. "About anyone or anything."

"I have my own ways," Tom frowned at her unsatisfactory answer. He could get any information he wanted about the school. How could Hattie have information he wanted that he couldn't discover through his own channels?

"I swear to you," Hattie said in earnest. "Nothing you have can rival mine." Hattie chose her words carefully, trying to imbue that it wasn't a specific item that gave her this ability. "Nobody has sources like mine. Nobody."

"Anything?" Tom confirmed as Hattie nodded her head. "Alright. But I'm going to need you to prove it to me."

"How?" Dread tore through Hattie's veins.

"Patience is a virtue," Tom tugged at the tangled tips of her hair. "I'll tell you when I decide. And only then."

"Then don't expect a prompt answer when you ask," Hattie turned on her heel and stormed up to her dormitory, pleased that she was finally getting somewhere.


	11. Heart to Heart

Hattie sat in the Common Room clutching a heavy letter from her Aunt a week later. Dumbledore kept Hattie after class to give it directly to her, fearing any potential interference.

The Common Room was bereft of students at the witching hour. Hattie sat in the nook of a window looking into the Black Lake. She'd had the painfully heavy letter for hours and her vision blurred with tears upon every attempt to open it. Uncomfortable cracks traveled down her spine as she rolled her shoulders back from slouching for so long, contemplating opening the envelope.

When Hattie penned the note so angrily weeks ago, she hadn't considered how she'd feel about her Aunt's revelations. They had defiled her mother's memory for naught if there was nothing in the rooms. Alternatively, she might not like something her Aunt found. Neither outcome was preferable.

Searing tears rolled down her face and stained the address on the letter. Ink sank down the parchment, dripping onto her unkempt uniform. Hattie's chest ached with the insurmountable weight of the realization that nothing written inside would make her feel normal again. She pushed her palm into her chest to alleviate the burn but it made no difference.

With a quick breath, she leaned her head against the chilly glass to sooth the redness in her cheeks and nose instead.

Hattie ran her fingers timidly over the letter and slipped her finger under the wax seal. It popped it open with a rip. Within were two letters and a small scrap of parchment. Hattie opened the smaller of the two notes, a letter clearly from her Aunt.

 _Hattie,_

 _I am so relieved you wrote back. I was of half a mind to get on the next train to Hogsmeade and visit you myself. We've been terribly lonely without you. How is your health? Have you been ill since returning to school?_

 _I apologize it took so long to respond. You're mother's rooms are gigantic and I only got through two. But I found a few things you might be interested in._

 _I found the letter on the desk in one of the rooms. I didn't read it. It felt inappropriate._

 _Aunt Eva_

 _P.s. Don't ever think of not writing me again._

Hattie placed her Aunt's scolding note aside and pulled a sealed letter from the envelope. Her heart stung seeing her mother's delicate, swirling handwriting coating the page.

It was addressed to her. Hattie's throat tightened so desperately she was certain she would asphyxiate herself. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand when she let out a pitiful sob.

Why hadn't she gone in the room sooner? Her mother left more than a will and a time turner and she hadn't known for a year.

Hattie's lip trembled biting away another sob rising in her scratchy throat. Her hands shook while she flipped the letter around.

The ancient Selwyn family crest lay before her. Lofty, outstretched wings moved back and forth on the seal, as if catching the breeze on a windy day. The owl's scrutinizing eyes blinked in acknowledgement. It bowed its feathered head and the wax dripped down the page, unsealing the letter.

Hattie cracked open the letter with the delicacy of cradling a baby bird.

 _Hattie,_

 _I want you to know I've done everything I could for you. I've done things I'm not proud of that are coming back to haunt me. They're after me. They'll find me and there is no doubt in my mind they will kill me. By the time you're reading this there will be no need to specify what it is they want. It's safe with you at Hogwarts. There is probably no safer place._

 _As I meet them, like I plan to do today, I will remember until my dying breath how much I love you and your father. You have been the light of my life and I wish I could see you grow into the brilliant woman I know you will be, in real time. But if they come for me and don't think they've won, they will come for you too and I won't let that happen._

 _I can't imagine the grief you are feeling reading this note. But I implore you, don't come back for me. I made this decision and I want you to trust that it was the right one. I walk to my death knowing that you are safe and that you are strong enough to hold your own._

 _I love you so much and I hope that one day you will see that this was our only choice._

 _Love, Mum_

Hattie leaned her head back against the aging rock wall and let herself devolve into a fit of tears for the first time in nearly a year. She clutched the letter to herself, running her fingers over the parchment and mutilated seal, wishing she could feel part of her mother through the ink.

She couldn't.

Wracking sobs obstructed her throat and drowned her eyes in hot tears. Everything she had held in for the past year poured out faster than she could say time turner.

Her mother gave herself up. She gave herself to whoever 'they' were willingly.

But something else deeply concerned Hattie about the letter. She would be lying if she said she hadn't considered going back to spend time with her mother. But it would feel like losing her a second time when she inevitably had to leave. Warning bells rang in her mind at this specific request. Keeping information from her was her mother's goal and it was crushing. There was something Hattie couldn't know, even after her mother's death.

She rammed her palms painfully into her eyes and cried in agony she hadn't experienced since learning her mother passed. This letter sat for over a year in her mother's study. Hattie had been too cowardly to enter. Hiding behind her mother's memories wasn't good enough. She was a coward and now saw how deep it ran.

Hattie reached for the envelope again but retained a close eye on her mother's letter in her lap. The final scrap of paper lay inside.

Another note from her Aunt sat waiting to be found.

 _What you requested:_

 _Ring_

"What bullshit is this?" Hattie tossed the note away with a frustrated scream and leaned her head against the window to cry.

* * *

Tom hustled down from his dormitory. He awoke later than usual and wanted at least some work done before being due at breakfast. He couldn't figure what had gotten into him lately. He didn't tolerate tardiness, not even deadlines he set for himself.

He entered into the silent Common Room with heavy feet. The fire had long since died and instead watered down morning light latticed through the windows. He did a double take at the light shining on the floor. A large black spot obstructed the light. Looking up suddenly, he saw Hattie sleeping against the windowsill.

Her face pressed against the glass and she shivered like she'd been caught by a vicious fever. Her arms wrapped tightly around herself and her fingernails dug deep into her night clothes.

Tom craned to look around the room. They were totally alone.

He inched closer, careful not to wake her in a fright. A parchment pile lay abandoned on the ground at Hattie's feet as if thrown down and forgotten.

Tom crouched down slowly to pull the parchment towards him. They crinkled in his hands and he bit his lip hard at the sound.

Hattie shifted on the window sill. Tom eyes widened as he froze. She pulled her cloak around herself and was promptly dead to the world once more.

Tom flipped the parchment in his hand. His calculated breaths were few and far between. A variety of feminine script covered the pages. He ran his fingers down the page as he read, memorizing every fascinating word.

He finished the three notes and felt a wave of excited wash over him. Hattie had something valuable hidden in Hogwarts. Something so coveted and dangerous it caused her mother's death. Unfortunately, her mother's letter didn't make much sense. Perhaps she'd gone mad before she died. Or she hadn't and every word was intentional, meant for only Hattie to understand.

And then there was the most fascinating bit. The word 'ring' scribbled on a little piece of loose parchment.

Did she have some sort of powerful ring? Or she was looking for one.

Hattie stirred with a groan and Tom's eyes tore from the parchment. He placed them back down exactly as he'd found them. Moving swiftly from Hattie's perch, he walked out of the Common Room as if everything hadn't suddenly changed.

Hattie jerked awake as the front entrance closed. She wrapped her arms around herself to quell the rattling in her bones. The sill felt icy under her fingers as she felt around for her letters. She gave a panicked cry until she looked down and saw the parchment at her feet.

The sill felt higher than before as she stumbled to the floor, arms flying out around her. Her head rang from the sudden movement and she saw double. Hattie hurriedly piled the letters in her arms and bounded up the staircase to her dormitory.

* * *

Ada and Charlotte hadn't spoken with Hattie in nearly three weeks. The arrangement greatly inhibited both parties. Overwhelming loneliness overtook Hattie as she moved through the motions of her new normal. Charlotte and Ada kept to themselves with the occasional interruption of Avery, Nott, and Lestrange. Non-research time included an ever distant Tom and clinging Myrtle. The dual extremes were stifling.

The day to day monotony was uncomfortable. Hattie took it off her mind with O.W.L.S. studying and half hearted attempts to get information out of Tom.

He sat beside her nearly every meal with a hand on her back, shooing away his followers when Hattie came by. They'd at least had bearable, quiet conversations about advanced magic at meals. And sprinklings of political discussion weren't uncommon in the library.

"The ministry is perfectly capable of handling Grindelwald," Hattie argued in a hushed tone to Tom in the library a few days after he found the letters. She pushed her palms into the table and leaned past her shoulders to catch Tom's eye. She knew perfectly well it wasn't the ministry that would handle Grindelwald but she couldn't give anything away.

"The Minister doesn't know the difference between a dementor and a troll in a cloak," Tom dropped his quill in a huff. "It's been years. They can't even stop the horrific _Muggle_ war. How will they stop ours? The Muggles drop exploding devices that decimate cities, killing thousands. They should be able to stop it. But they don't."

"Magical Law Enforcement is working solely on capturing Grindelwald," Hattie said, biting her quill in thought. She scribbled a quick line for her transfiguration essay before continuing. "There isn't time to focus on the Muggle war. And you have to admit that their recent werewolf and vampire policy was surprisingly progressive. Building communities instead of secluding them will really improve their quality of life and hopefully decrease the amount of attacks in the region."

"Quality of life?" Tom shook his head. "Vampires are dead."

"It's a colloquialism and you know it," Hattie reached the short distance to hit his face with the feather on her quill. Tom's mouth fell open and he looked at her disbelievingly.

The air in the room shifted. Intensity lingered over them like an early morning fog, weaving around their limbs. It hung suspended. Rolling thunderstorms threatening to tear open the skies with vicious rain.

"How mature," Tom ran a hand through his hair where it had fallen when he jerked away from her attacking quill. "It's politically motivated anyways."

"Obviously," Hattie shot back. "Of course they want to get the vampires and werewolves on our side. We can't risk any race or group leaning favorably towards Grindelwald. He has enough followers already; Too many."

"Either way, if they don't do something about Grindelwald soon, there may be no quality of life for anybody, wizard or otherwise."

"He has overrun three countries in three months," Hattie frowned. "Romania, Slovakia, and Austria are all under his control. And he's moving closer to France again." Hattie didn't know whether Grindelwald would decimate France before Dumbledore handled him. She would tune out war conversation at the dinner table and fearful whispers in the halls. It made her uncomfortable thinking about things right around the corner. She expressly avoided them in her travels after the first few times.

"That's where your Aunt and Uncle live, correct?" Tom ceased all work, instead considering Hattie coolly. "France, I mean."

"It is," Hattie said, draining of color. Her stomach rolled and she felt tightness in her neck. How could she live with herself if something happened to them and she could have prevented it? Sadly, it would never happen. Her Uncle was deeply embroiled in the fight against Grindelwald, trying to keep his influence out of France. Dreams seemed preferable to reality nowadays. "He was run out in the mid-20's but it looks like he's moving towards the region again."

"I'm sure they can hold their own. They have before," Tom returned to his work. He scribbled a few notes in the corner of his open textbook and copied a line down on his potions paper. "I'd focus on your slipping potions performance. Your Draught of Peace last class made me want to slaughter all of Hogwarts. It brought me no peace at all."

"I doubt any potion could stand in your way," Hattie said dryly. "And the potion was fine. You were upset mine turned out better than yours and Slughorn gave me the five points for Slytherin."

"You're imagining things," Tom said with a finality that made Hattie laugh out loud. She threw her head back and covered her mouth with her hands. Mocking Tom was a dangerous game of roulette but she yearned to play.

He looked up with an inextinguishable fire burning in his eyes. Tom leaned across the table towards Hattie, exactly as she'd done before. Words were mangled before she could consider speaking them.

The slight condescension in Tom's smile compelled Hattie to hit him with her quill again. It brought no satisfaction when he didn't react a second time. His warm breath tickled Hattie's lips with his face right near hers. It amazed her still how warm Tom seemed to be. Humanizing him was a dangerous game but he made it difficult not to.

Hattie's face slacked as they stared at one another longer than appropriate. Tom's smirk only grew as Hattie melted before him. He dragged his knuckles against her burning cheek, watching its path. Heat from her face bled into his skin. He pulled in a breath and tangled his fingers in her hair. Knots caught between his fingers as he tugged down.

"Your prefect badge is askew," Tom pulled his hand from her hair to adjust the pin near her heart. "You're losing control of everything, aren't you?"

Hattie shoved back from Tom, sending her chair tumbling to the floor as she stumbled. He moved back, started, to stand on the other side of the table. Breathing hard, they sized up the unexpected reaction of the other.

Tom recovered quicker than Hattie. His reanimated pleasant smile mocked her and she scowled. The muted chatter of students in the distance and the pounding of Hattie's heart were the only sounds in the room. Electricity weaved through her skin and plummeting into her bones. Warmth settling so deep inside she might never be free of it.

Without a word, she shoved her work back in her bag and rushed from the room. Something about this encounter tilted her like only a ride to her vault in Gringotts could do. She knew why, to her great dismay. There was no possibility her prefect badge was misplaced. Everything about her was perfect before meeting Tom.

* * *

Hattie avoided Tom at dinner that night. She forwent the Slytherin table all together and headed straight to Ravenclaw territory. Blinded by the sea of blue, Hattie shook away the feeling of being the obvious outsider. Myrtle's pig-tailed head looked down solemnly into her soup near the far corner of the table.

"Myrtle," Hattie tapped her shoulder. Myrtle jumped but broke into a wide, crooked smile when she saw Hattie standing before her.

Hattie offered a heated look to the person beside them. He hurried away from the odd Slytherin attempting to sit at the Ravenclaw table. The boy joined another group a few spots away and whispered hurriedly to them. They all turned their head simultaneous to watch. Clearly subtlety wasn't their strong suit.

Hattie grabbed a large serving of the food in front of her, not paying attention to the contents on the spoon.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Myrtle wrapped her arms around Hattie's middle in a back-breaking hug. Hattie swallowed and wove a supportive arm around Myrtles shoulder.

They attracted the attention of more students the longer they sat. Dumbledore watched them with pleasant interest. It wasn't common the tables split between houses and it was even less commonly a Slytherin leaving their home territory.

"Has Hornby given you any trouble lately?" Hattie tossed out casually, digging a knife into her food.

"A little," Myrtle sat up straight, turning her head away to shield her eyes from Hattie.

Hattie gripped her fork so tight it formed red indentations on her palm. She'd watched Hornby and Myrtle closely the past month. She hadn't seen anything specifically happening between the pair. But if she knew it occurred she could still threaten Hornby. The desire to protect Myrtle from Hornby flooded her. Hexing Olive sounded like a pleasant use of a weekend night. Unfortunately, she still wore a prefect badge. Talking to Dippet about removing her prefect role next year grew more appealing by the day. Prefect duties put far too many eyes on her.

Tom watched Hattie like a hawk from the moment she entered the Great Hall. Hattie had glanced at the Slytherin table, glazed over him, and headed to the Ravenclaw tribe. He didn't take kindly to being ignored, especially not by her.

When she sat down beside Myrtle Warren of all people, Tom was bewildered. He'd never once seen Hattie interact with Warren. Then he saw _the_ face. The twist of Hattie's mouth and the tightened jaw he'd come to associate with Hattie preparing for something rash and aggressive.

He placed his silverware down beside his plate and tossed his napkin away, not once breaking his focus on Hattie. Tom abandoned his asinine conversation with Vera Ogden and immediately headed for the Ravenclaw table. Glad for the distraction from Ogden, he considered exactly what to say for a reaction from Hattie.

"A little is too much," Hattie shoved her bench back and tossed her bag over her shoulder. She gave a quick hug to a shell-shocked Myrtle and rocked back and forth on her heels. "I'll go deal with her."

"No, Hattie, don't," Myrtle rubbed at her nose. She gave Hattie a meek, pleading stare which suddenly shifted into wide eyed wonder.

"Ms. Warren," Tom nodded at Myrtle and turned towards Hattie, hands clasped behind his back. "Ms. Selwyn." It was slightly softer than the way he'd spoken Myrtle's name.

"Tom," Hattie flushed with the fear Tom heard her threat against Hornby. Not that she didn't absolutely deserve whatever she had coming to her.

"I apologize for cutting your conversation short but I need to speak with Hattie for a moment," Tom gave Myrtle a brilliant, shy grin. She gave a little squeak and turned her face to her now chilly soup. This drew jealous sighs from the other Ravenclaw women close enough to hear the conversation.

"Of course," Hattie said through gritted teeth, examining the warning glint in Tom's eyes. She stormed past him into the castle entry way. Her feet hit the ground forcefully as she moved. If she were younger, a fit of accidental magic would have sent webbing cracks through the marbled floor. Her accidental magic had always been destructive, especially when she felt trapped.

The hall was drafty and Hattie wished she'd worn her sweater. Maybe then she could've covered her face in fabric and pretended Tom didn't exist. If he scolded her for abandoning him in the library she would tell him where he could shove it. If he told her not to hex Hornby she would again tell him where to shove it.

Tom wrapped a gentle hand around Hattie's wrist but dragged her with more than necessary force into the first available classroom. He waved his hand and the door slammed behind them.

"Threatening other students," Tom said slowly.

"Hornby deserves it," Hattie placed a chair between herself and Tom, not trusting herself to be in the same room with him still furious about their earlier encounter in the library. She wasn't crazy enough to turn her wand on Tom again. A physical barrier would suffice. "She says horrible things to Myrtle. She treats her like dirt and I won't let that happen anymore."

"What are you going to do?" Tom taunted. "Pull her hair? Hex her to write backwards?"

"I was thinking of sealing her lips together so she couldn't open her fat mouth again."

"Now that's not very appropriate, is it?" Tom hooked his leg under the chair and kicked it to the side. The clang from its rough landing reverberated through the room. It fell away and Hattie side-eyed it. It would look strange to grab it and put it back in place between them.

"Like you've never done anything when you were angry," Hattie felt a fit of rage building in the pit of her stomach.

She wanted to egg him on. She wanted him to lose it.

Tom stepped towards Hattie like a wild animal about to pounce. He slowly reached for her waist and moved forward to fill the space between them. His fingers dug deep into her sides but a twisted part of her liked the pain. It made her fingers sear and muscles tense.

"I hung a boy's rabbit from the rafters at the orphanage because he upset me," Tom hissed, vying for a visceral reaction. He found none. She didn't back down. Hattie stood statue still in her defiance, waiting for him to continue. A challenge Tom was ecstatic to take. "I took two children from the orphanage into a cave on a field trip and _broke_ them." He stressed the word as his chest heaved against hers. Telling her these things was both cathartic and emboldening. He swallowed and contained how badly he wanted to push her against the wall again.

Shooting pains rode up her jaw as Hattie ground her teeth. Needing to be closer, she grabbed Tom by the front of the robes.

Wind crashed hard against the windows, shaking them, begging to get inside. The setting sun tinted the room in a deep yellow hue beginning on the walls and slipping to the floor as it made its path behind the mountains.

"I set my dining room on fire because I didn't like my nanny and wanted her gone." Hattie stood on her tip toes, nearly bringing her eye level with Tom. Shadows cast over the angles on his face. He looked at her like the most enthralling painting in the world, examining every inch of her.

Hattie's comment elicited a small growl from Tom. He wrapped his arms so tight around Hattie her toes barely grazed the floor. The warmth of the sun mingled with the warmth of Tom's arms, sickly sweet against every inch of her.

"I ripped the limbs from a girl's doll and threw them down the garbage shoot because she made a joke about me being different," Tom held Hattie tight with one arm at her waist and ran the other one up her back but she still refused to back down. He grasped at the baby hair at the nape of her neck. Shivers tumbled down her back and Tom hummed his approval.

"I convinced Mrs. Malfoy that Abraxas destroyed their kitchen at a party," Hattie resisted the urge to bite his lips lingering right in front of her. Dragging her teeth across them sounded like an excellent idea in the moment. "He made fun of me for having a dead dad. So I tore it apart and blamed it on him. She believed me, because who wouldn't? I'm adorable. It was the big doe eyes."

She whispered the last and a chilling intimacy settled in the room.

Tom pushed his hand into her hair and tugged lightly. She looked him directly in the eyes.

"Have a good night, Ms. Selwyn," Tom whispered against her mouth. He placed Hattie safely back on the ground and she immediately wished he hadn't. She spun around to watch him leave without another word.


	12. Dead In A Week

Tom looked like an attentive, caring presence on the outside. But Hattie knew better. Paranoia that Tom knew of the letters from her Aunt was tearing her apart. She had no reason to believe it to be the case but Tom always knew more than he let on.

On top of that, the memory of their aggressive heart to heart sent her into a tailspin. Hattie woke sweating in the night, screaming, imagining Tom hung her from the rafters at his orphanage. Ada and Charlotte would wake and simply stare before turning over to go back to sleep.

Occasionally, Charlotte would send her a sympathetic smile but she mostly looked betrayed.

Vera Ogden was a different story.

"Selwyn," Ogden heaved her downy pillow at Hattie's tear coated face. The pillow connected and knocked her off balance, sending her slipping off the bed. Floor met skin with a heavy thud and a slew of profanities from Hattie.

"Really, Ogden?" Hattie's head poked over the side of the bed. She grasped the blankets for support as she crawled back in bed. It was less demure than intended. She slipped and slid as she clawed her way back to a reasonable position on the bed.

"This is the third night in a row. Get a Dreamless Sleep Draught, you idiot," Ogden stormed over to Hattie and ripped the pillow from her bed with a huff. "I don't want to lose sleep because you can't handle some stupid dreams."

"Alright, I'll make you a deal," Hattie sat cross-legged on the bed. The fogginess of sleep was leaving her and the cogs in her mind turned. "You make sure Hornby leaves Myrtle alone and I'll get a Dreamless Sleep Draught."

"Who?" Ogden's face twisted in disgust at the antiquated name. It sounded like something her Grandmother would have been named.

Hattie threw her arms in the air. They fell and hit her knees with a stinging slap. Ogden rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"Myrtle Warren," Hattie raised her eyebrows, waiting for some form of recognition. "The Ravenclaw? Pigtails? No? Nothing?"

"Oh," Vera sneered. "The weird one?" Vera pursed her lips in disgust and wrapped herself in a blanket from her bed. One downside to chilly nights in the Slytherin dungeon was the risk of freezing accidentally in the night.

"Sure," Hattie fluffed her pillow, intent on forgetting it and going back to sleep. It had been worth a try.

A few silent, but tense moments passed between the two. Ogden cocked her head, thinking, and Hattie watched with suspicion.

"I don't know why Tom wastes his time on you," Vera leaned against her fore poster with a smug look on her angled face. It infuriated Hattie that she was still pretty while scowling. Everything would have been easier if she wasn't as good looking as she is. Why couldn't she look a little inbred like Walburga Black? "You just hang out with freaks."

"And I don't know why you broke your engagement with Malfoy last year for a chance with Tom," Hattie turned her head slowly to gauge Vera's reaction. "I wouldn't guess a half-blood would outrank a pure-blooded Malfoy in your family's eyes."

"Unfortunately, Hattie," Vera pushed off the fore poster with a practiced grace. " _Some_ of us have parents we need to think about. They see Tom's potential and so do I."

"Shut _up_ , Ogden," Ada shot up in her bed and sent a warning look Vera's direction. Her hair tangled disastrously in the back and she look like she hadn't slept all night. Her eyes were heavy and her voice cracked with each word.

"It's fine, Ada," Hattie silenced her with an outstretched hand. "I don't believe for a second your parents encouraged you sever ties with the Malfoys when the fancy to snog Tom struck."

"You're a bitch," Vera said cheerfully. "You know that?"

"What part of shut up don't you understand?" Ada grabbed her wand and lunged forward on her bed to shove her wand in the delicate skin at Ogden's neck. "Are you as dumb as you are entitled?"

"Everybody, stop," Charlotte held her hands out wide. Bedding tangled around her as she struggled to sit up. Ada ripped her wand from Ogden's neck and turned towards Charlotte. Hattie kept her eyes trained on Ogden, scared she would move for Ada while her wand was down.

"Fine," Ogden returned to her bed with a huff. "I'll tell Olive to annoy somebody else. But only if you get something for your annoying nightmares."

"Deal," Hattie looked over at Ada who could level cities with the look in her eyes. "Thanks I-"

"Don't talk to me," Ada flipped over in bed to face away from Hattie.

* * *

Meals weren't much better. Charlotte and Ada distanced themselves from Hattie, but she knew they were watching; Just like everybody else nowadays. Her concern for wandering eyes was growing by the day. Being around Tom made people notice her and people noticing meant a higher chance of discovery. All she wanted was to sink back into the shadows and be at peace with her miserable task.

Usually it was Tom and Hattie together at meals without his goons. But today something was different. Hattie sat with Tom and the lot of his followers. He didn't shoo them away as usual and with them was Ada and Charlotte.

Lestange pushed a strand of Ada's raven black hair behind her ear and whispered something only they could hear. She looked at him with a slightly open mouth and burst into genuine laughter. Lestrange smirked and looked over at Avery who was trying to ignore them completely. Red in the face and grasping his cutlery tight, Avery watched from the distance. Both Lestrange and Hattie knew he had seen. Ada was none the wiser, focused entirely on the man next to her.

Tom placed a hand against Hattie's lower back and turned his head away from the table to speak quietly in her ear. It wouldn't have mattered. At least half the table watched this new development between Lestrange and Ada. But something Hattie had quickly learned about Tom was reticence epitomized his lifestyle.

"They're certainly something, aren't they?" Tom's voice sent a shock of ice down her spine, coagulating right where his fingers played in her robe.

Hattie frowned at him and shook her head. She wasn't about the share any information about Ada with Tom, even if they weren't currently speaking.

"You put him up to this?" Hattie hissed and kicked his calf under the table.

He frowned at her and grabbed tight to the fabric at her back.

"I'd advise you not to kick me again," Tom's voice darkened.

"I'd advise you not to cause problems for my friends," Hattie mocked his warning tone. She considered sticking her tongue out at him but she was too furious for humor. "You know her situation."

Having Tom interfere with Ada's terrible situation was something Hattie wouldn't allow.

A fire burned in Tom's eyes and he used his free hand to grab her leg right above her knee. The only thing between his hand and her skin were her thin tights. He pushed his thumb under the hem of her skirt, never breaking eye contact. She flushed and stared in momentary shock at his impropriety.

"Shove off, Riddle," Hattie said loudly enough for the group to hear. She pushed him away and stood indignantly.

Tom's gaze chilled to a warning look and Hattie grabbed her bag from the ground and stormed out of the Great Hall.

Charlotte watched her go, having seen the entirety of Tom and Hattie's exchange. She stood quickly to watch Hattie rush from the hall.

"Sit down," Ada tugged on Charlotte's cardigan. Charlotte looked between Ada and the now empty Great Hall entrance. She slowly sat and turned back to Nott to continue their conversation.

Tom stared past the group towards the rocky wall. He sat deathly still momentarily before standing with a scowl and following Hattie's path out of the Great Hall.

He rushed down to the Slytherin Dormitory but Hattie was nowhere to be found. Tom had something to say when he saw her again. Nobody disrespected him that way in front of his followers. Not even Hattie.

* * *

Hattie ran to the only person she could think to confide in. Dumbledore might actually understand, as much as it pained her to admit. Even if all Tom did was lightly threaten her and make her sick to her stomach.

As she hurried through the chilly corridors, something painful occurred to her. She really hadn't gotten anywhere with Tom.

Hattie knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office and it opened. Running in at breakneck speed, Hattie forwent pleasantries and jumped right into her concern.

"He's not biting, sir. He hasn't mentioned a single thing about a plot or plan," They'd only had a horrific heart to heart that Hattie wasn't keen on repeating. She dropped into her spot at the fireplace hit and her head against the back of the plush armchair.

Dumbledore's office filled with the warmth from the fire. November brought an unprecedented chill and Hattie felt like she would never be warm again. This fire made a difference. Perhaps Dumbledore charmed it specifically for that purpose.

"And I can't find anything on him in the future. His name doesn't show up anywhere," Looking through ministry archives, history books, and news articles had been fruitless. Tom Riddle was like a ghost.

Dumbledore didn't appear fazed by her sudden interruption and declaration. In fact, he seemed pleasantly surprised she had visited.

"Perhaps a different approach is in order," Dumbledore handed Hattie a steaming cup of tea which she took readily. She had grown more comfortable around the old man over the past few months but she was still wary of the latent concern in his eyes. As desperately as he tried to hide it, he didn't fully trust her.

Hattie sipped her tea and stared into the crackling fire. Part of her wanted an ember to land on the carpet and burn the castle down. Then she wouldn't need to deal with Tom again. Dying in a physical fire felt better than perishing in the fire that was Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore sat patiently as Hattie contemplated her options. She knew that Tom wouldn't be pleased with the way they just parted ways. She needed to act fast before Tom lost interest or got tired of her challenging him.

For the first time, she tried to delve into the mind of Tom Riddle. Analyze his intentions. Do more than just react to him; She needed to anticipate him.

"Sir," Hattie's eyes lit up. "What's the most horrific book in the Restricted Section?"

The heart to heart had suddenly given her an idea.

The silence was stifling. Dumbledore gave a concerned look from behind his half-moon spectacles, trying to decide whether the book was for her task or her personally. He looked into his tea, thinking.

"I need something worse than what you gave me at beginning of term," Hattie tapped tea cup rim. "I've looked through them all and it's not what I need."

" _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ would be an option," Dumbledore offered carefully. "What do you want with that book in particular?"

"I want him to catch me," Hattie placed her tea down and stood. She pressed her hands to her mouth and paced the pleasantly warm room. Moving improved her thinking; At least she felt less trapped when she did. "I've tried coy and I've tried brash. I haven't tried intentionally giving Tom the upper hand. Or at least making him think so. He knows I'm up to something, but he doesn't know what."

"You want to show him you've long been interested in the Dark Arts," Dumbledore nodded. "If he hasn't confided anything in you yet, this might just do it."

"Exactly," Hattie rocked on the balls of her feet. "I'll make it look like I made a mistake. And it has to be with something more advanced than _An Introduction to the Dark Arts_."

 _But I already have made a mistake_ , she said to herself.

She lacked so much control around Riddle she was liable to spit out her darkest secrets any day now. She'd already told him about her destructive tendencies. If she said much more, it would be disastrous and she couldn't play it off as anything mundane. Tom didn't miss anything.

"You fear him seeing an introductory book would look too contrived, too intentional."

"Yes," Hattie swallowed considering the consequences of Tom catching on to her little plan with Dumbledore. "He's too smart not to see right through it."

"I agree," Dumbledore sighed and the pair sat in companionable silence until Hattie plucked up the courage to go deal with an angry Tom.

* * *

By mid-November, Hattie still hadn't spoken to Ada and Charlotte since the night in the dormitory with Ogden. They were all too stubborn. Only Charlotte's resolve wavered. It was torturous having nobody to speak with besides Tom and sometimes his followers.

Then there was the issue of proving to Tom that she could give him valuable information. He still hadn't said a thing about their agreement. He was biding his time and it infuriated Hattie. She wanted to scream in his face, curse him, and kick him more than she already had. But Hattie still remembered his warning from earlier in the year to never turn her wand against him. She imagined Tom's fury was deadly. If she struck, he would strike back twice as hard.

Hattie was antsy so she spent her time reading some of the vilest books she could find. She read _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ thrice by the morning she planned to lure Tom in. More than once the book made her physically ill. But if she played this role, she needed to have a broad knowledge of the subject.

Usually she and Tom met at the Great Hall for breakfast but she had a different idea this morning. Hattie woke at five and tossed on her uniform. She had pilfered the dreaded book from the Restricted Section and hoped Dumbledore would intervene if Madam Pince noticed.

The Common Room was deserted in the early morning and Hattie took her spot in Tom's favorite chair, knowing that alone could cause a blowout. Nobody dared sit in _his_ chair. Except Hattie, of course.

If the impending confrontation went her way, she would play the role of a girl caught in the act of something unspeakable. Hopefully Tom would buy it. If he didn't - well, she would deal with that if it occurred. No reason to worry about the worst possible outcome now.

Hattie flipped through _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ , pretending to be so enthralled she was lost to the world.

Tom came down the stairs at five thirty sharp and Hattie stiffened. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase and looked her direction with mild interest. Tom checked the room. After deciding it was empty, made his way to Hattie.

"Hattie," Tom stood before her and Hattie jumped up, eyes wide. His gaze darted between hers and the book in her hands.

"Tom," Hattie shoved the book in her cloak and stumbled over the side of the chair. "When did you wake up?" She attempted to maneuver her way around him but he caught her waist.

 _Really_ , she chided herself. That was the best she could come up with?

"I don't bite," Tom smirked as he pulled Hattie into him. Her hands were wrapped tight around herself, corralling the book from view.

"That's not what Vera told us last year," Hattie's jaw tightened. She was terrible at this. She's ruin everything if she couldn't keep her damn attitude in check. "She told us all how - active - you are with your mouth. In great detail."

 _Damn it_ , she thought to herself. She blew it. Not that it was a lie, but now wasn't the time to bring up Vera and his tongue.

"Did she?" Tom seemed halfway amused by the comment. "Would you like to share the book you're unsuccessfully attempting to hide from me?" He looked down at her and ran a hand under her cloak and around her lower back, pulling her flush against him.

The uncomfortable fire in Tom's veins returned as he felt her chest rise and fall against him.

Hattie looked down to shield her excitement. He bit.

"Not in the least," Hattie looked up and held the book tight against her but Tom's hand ran up her side and tugged at the binding. Hattie gasped when he dipped his head to run his lips down her neck. When her grip slackened, Tom grabbed the book, holding it high out of her reach.

"How mature, Tom," Hattie panted. "Give me the damn book and I won't tell anybody what you did to me that morning before Divination in September."

Honestly, she'd never tell a soul he'd cornered her against a wall, but having something over Riddle was an excellent opportunity she couldn't pass up. This was going far too well.

"You're blackmailing me?" Tom drawled and pushed his free hand against Hattie's stomach, backing her slowly into the wall, exactly like he did that day at Divination. He looked past her, thinking, and then flicked his gaze back to her with a smirk.

"Yes," Hattie gritted her teeth, trying to push down the churning in her stomach she got each time Tom touched her. "Did you expect less?"

"I did," Tom gave her a devilish grin and pulled the book back around, reading the title. His mouth fell open and he slowly turned his head back to Hattie. This time the shock on her face wasn't contrived. The fire in Tom's eyes from the past months was no longer a budding flame; It was a wildfire. " _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_. You're impressing me more every second. And note, I don't say that lightly."

"Have you read it?" Hattie grabbed his cloak and held him tight against her. The way he was looking at her was so foreign and stunning she wanted to pull him down and kiss him in the middle of the Common Room, onlookers be damned. Tom looked at her like everything suddenly made sense.

Hattie was suddenly in too deep.

Tom shook his head that he had not. "This is what you've been doing the past year?"

"Are you going to blackmail me in return?" Hattie dragged her hand up to his collar and grabbed tight, pulling him down towards her. She pulled him so close his lips were dangerously near her own. She could feel his warm breath against her lips and every nerve ending urged her to just move a few centimeters farther.

"Perhaps. You can't even fathom everything I'm going to do to you Hattie Selwyn," Tom said nearly against her lips. "Follow me, I'd like to show you something."

Hattie deflated when Tom let her go. He grabbed her wrist and egged her forward.

"You're not reporting me to Dippet?" Hattie's brows creased in disbelief. She looked back towards the girl's dorms, fearing somebody would walk down any moment. They really needed somewhere more private than the library and Common Room.

"Dippet?" Tom stepped backwards out of the Common Room and pulled Hattie with him. "That old fool has no clue what goes on under his nose in this school."

"What are you talking about?" Genuine fear rose in Hattie's strained voice.

"I told you I would show you," Tom snapped. "Come or don't. It's your choice."

"Dear God, I'll be dead in a week," Hattie whispered under her breath as she followed Tom into the unknown.


	13. Room of Requirement

Tom watched Hattie stand, hands against her hips, staring at the wall on the 7th floor. How had he not seen it before? The monster lurking beneath her pristine surface, not much unlike his own. She was nearly as brilliant at hiding it as him. How he failed for over four years to notice was unfathomable to him. The way she held herself, the way she spoke, the gritty disregard she had for most everybody else was a mirror of himself. But she cared deeply for Bellchant and Prewett, which he couldn't say about his Knights. That was their difference and her weakness. She _cared_.

Hattie shielded her dark interests from everybody, if perhaps not Dumbledore. That's why he'd suddenly kept such a close eye on her, Tom thought. Hattie let something slip. She was rash and unrestrained at times. It was likely she said or did something at the wrong moment and everything unraveled.

Tom let out a breath and took in her form. She was taller than a year ago, nearly reaching to his shoulder. Even in her frumpy school robes she was quite a site. That fire in his blood rose again and he fought back the urge to push her against the wall like they had been moments before. She'd pulled his face to hers and he'd been certain she would kiss him. But she hadn't. Luckily he'd stopped it before he lost control himself and initiated.

With Ogden last term it had been easy. He didn't care a lick about her. But with Hattie, there was something else there. A dark, repressed feeling of wanting like he'd never experienced before. It wasn't convenience, it was desire. Exactly why he'd distanced himself before. If he had any feelings whatsoever towards Hattie, he gave her a dangerous tool.

"Tom," Hattie called over her shoulder. "You wanted to show me a wall? I'm enthused but I think you're losing it."

"Walk back and forth three times."

Hattie's mouth fell open in disbelief. She threw out her arms in frustration but nonetheless obeyed.

A gilt door materialized before her and she gaped, looking back to ensure Tom saw this too. He simply smirked and motioned for her to go inside.

She remained rooted in place like a tree fighting against a hurricane. Her eyes traced around the edge of the door and she reached out to run a hand over the intricate detailing.

"Are you going to move or do I need to carry you inside?" Tom strode past Hattie and threw open the door.

With a warning look, Hattie stepped past him, dragging her hand across the prefect badge on his chest as passed the threshold.

He sucked in a breath of air and grabbed for her waist, tossing the door shut behind them.

"You're brilliant at playing with fire," Tom pulled her into his chest and buried his face in the crook between her neck and shoulders.

Hattie circled her arms around his waist in response.

"Is this why you took me here?" Hattie asked cautiously as he ran his mouth up her neck and near her ear.

"No," Tom took a haggard breath and stepped back, gently pushing Hattie's arms from her waist. "I want you to see what I've been doing the past few years."

"What?" Hattie said too aggressively. Her racing heart beat so hard against her ribs she was certain Tom could hear it. She wasn't sure if the sudden spike was from learning about Tom's plans or touching him. Hattie begged for it to be the former.

"Unless you don't want to see," Tom motioned towards the couch. "We could return to what we were just doing instead."

"Tempting," Hattie admitted. But she still had sense enough to snag the opportunity to see what Tom was up to. "But I want you to show me what you're working on."

"Of course," Tom rushed towards a gaudy oak desk sitting in the right hand corner of the room. Hattie watched the way he walked. There was a spring in his step she had never seen before. He was excited.

Tom dug through a few drawers, grabbing various books and pieces of parchment, piling them high on the desk.

"Hattie," Tom snapped in her direction to get her attention.

"Don't snap at me like a dog," Hattie grabbed a stack of notes from the couch Tom had pointed to previously. "Do it again and I'll set your notes on fire."

"Fine," Tom spun on his heel and held his arms out in a grandiose gesture. "Would you be so kind as to grace me with your presence, Ms. Selwyn?"

"Not before I burn these notes," Hattie flipped through the pages admiring the extensive work Tom had clearly put into it. She poked the paper with her wand threateningly. "Didn't you just say I'm brilliant at playing with fire?

"You wouldn't dare," Tom held out a warning hand as Hattie ran circled with her wand over the paper.

"Wouldn't I?"

"Do it and I'll kick you out and never let you back in."

Tom watched the intent disappear from Hattie's eyes and smirked as her resolve faded. Clearly she wanted to know what he'd been studying more than she wanted to cross him.

"Whatever," Hattie tossed the notes on the floor in a small act of defiance and joined Tom at the desk. "Show me."

His desk was covered in writings old and new. Many of the books were so aged, they were bound by tied leathery strips. Tom ran a gentle hand over the closest book that looked at least a few centuries old.

"Look at this," He commanded, handing Hattie the book and taking _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ from his bag. Hattie watched him place it in a drawer in the desk but said nothing.

The book Tom handed her crinkled and cracked as she opened the front cover. Stunning script coated the yellowing pages. There was very little structure to the writing and Hattie's eyes almost glazed over as she browsed the pages. It looked more like a journal than a proper book.

Tom waited patiently for Hattie's reaction as he lounged against the desk, arms crossed. Content letting her figuring it out on her own.

They were silent as Hattie looked through the book, reading random passages. Much of it was about seemingly ancient magic that didn't make much sense. The English was undeniably old. It barely read like the same language. Hattie huffed in frustration and then she saw four names that made her gasp.

"This is about the founding of Hogwarts?" Hattie held the book closer as if keeping it safe from any harm the air around it would bring. "I've never seen something like this in the library."

"Of course you haven't," Tom pushed off from the desk and went to stand beside Hattie. "I didn't get it from the Hogwarts library. Look here."

Tom flipped carefully towards the back of the bound parchment. He pointed down at a specific line and Hattie read through.

"You're researching the founders specifically?" Hattie said, reading about the beginnings of the founder's time at Hogwarts.

It was so disappointing, she wanted to toss the book back and tell him she was done. If this was all he was doing, Dumbledore had been wrong and Tom was just unnaturally interested in wizarding history.

"Yes, but that's just the beginning," Tom pulled the book from Hattie's and handed her a more recent publication. "Unsurprisingly, there are forms of magic not practiced anymore, for various reasons. They've been lost or intentionally suppressed because they scare people."

Hattie never imagined she would experience the interest suddenly sparked in her. It was a curiosity so deep and visceral she couldn't contain it. She flew through the pages looking at everything she could find. Unimaginably dangerous magic filled the book. If this was in the Restricted Section she would eat her hat. It made _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ look like child's play. But something about it was alluring, dangerously so. The spells weren't gory or horror-filled. It was more sinister than physical harm. Most of it was psychological. The book reverberated power, making her fingers tingle with latent magic she assumed seeped from the pages.

"Salazar Slytherin spent quite a bit of his time researching and experimenting," Tom wrapped a hand around Hattie's waist and looked at the book over her shoulder. "A lot of these papers and books are his work."

"He looks brilliant," Hattie flipped page after page of research notes, potions, and spells.

"He pushed the boundaries of magic," Tom sounded almost proud of Slytherin's accomplishments. Like they affected him in some way. "I'm going to do the same. I'll follow in his footsteps."

"Doing what, exactly?" Hattie looked up at Tom whose eyes were aglow with a passion she'd never seen him display.

He bent down, arm still around her waist to whisper into her ear. His breathing seemed louder than usual in the deathly silent room.

"Becoming the greatest wizard this world has seen since Salazar Slytherin himself," Tom parted his lips and Hattie sighed at the feeling of his warm breath against her face. "And you're going to help me."

Tom ran his fingers leisurely up and down her side.

He was so persuasive, Hattie knew with every bit of her soul she would have done anything he wanted in that moment. Their physical proximity scorched her and rebuilt her from the ashes. The way he spoke made everything sound possible at his side as long as she believed in him and his cause.

"I'll help you," Hattie whispered. Tom's hair fell into her face and she stepped out of his embrace before she lost herself further. She could never lose control around Riddle. To do so could be a deadly mistake.

"Good," Tom put a hand out for the book and Hattie complied. "Now tell me why you're seeking out books like _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_."

"Morbid curiosity," Hattie shrugged, forcing a casual demeanor. "Also, I've already told you, I like learning things beyond the Hogwarts curriculum. I think there's value in learning everything you can. You never know when that information will be needed."

"That's not all," Tom countered, reaching for her hands to drag Hattie forward. He curled a hand around the side of her neck to force her to look up at him with his thumb under her chin. "There's something else."

Hattie stared him down, knowing he was trying to get inside her head. She breathed out, hoping her thoughts would go with it. A light tingling in the back of her skull alerted her that he'd gotten in. She shoved him away hard and broke eye contact. The prickling in her head dissipated but a sick feeling took hold of her stomach.

"Stay the hell out of my head," Hattie balled her fists to control her shaking. He hadn't tried in months to break in. Clearly he hadn't developed the trust in her she believed he had.

"If you have nothing to hide you'll have no problem letting me in," Tom stepped up to her again and this time grabbed her neck with both hands. It wasn't painful but it was infuriating. Hattie grabbed his neck in return with the same hold he had on her.

Tom immediately stumbled back and rubbed his neck like Hattie's touch caused him pain.

"Alright," Hattie put her hands out in front of her. "You stay out of my head and I'll help you with whatever it is you want to do. I wouldn't let anybody in my head. Not even my mother."

Tom seemed sobered by their sudden blowout. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't," Hattie said practically. She frowned before continuing. "My family's studied dark magic for generations. Selwyns love their research. I'm doing the work my father and mother started before they died. I'm drawn to unpleasant things. It makes me feel something. And I haven't felt almost anything since my mother died."

Hattie whispered the last bit, realizing none of what she said was a lie. The darker parts of humanity had always fascinated her. It's what made her set her dining room on fire as a child and made her embrace such a sticky, unethical thing as time travel for personal gain.

Tom cocked his head and motioned for Hattie to come closer. She stepped forward, shaking every step of the way. Tom placed a hand on her waist once more and took in everything in her expression.

She wasn't lying and he knew it. Tom smirked down at her and ran a hand through the pieces of hair tumbling out of her braid.

"Alright," Tom rubbed Hattie's hair between his fingers. "I believe you. But if you cross me, it will be the last thing you ever do. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Hattie said with all the strength she could muster. If everything went well, he would never need to know what she was really doing to him.

* * *

As the chilly winter days dragged on, Hattie and Tom fell into a comfortable routine. They spent their time together in the library or at meals, and occasionally bicker about anything that struck them, just to keep it interesting.

Hattie stayed in the Room of Requirement late into the night working with Tom on anything he requested help with. She enjoyed it. Hattie was so consumed with the future that she rarely had time to consider the past. And looking into the history of Hogwarts was enthralling.

One bleak Saturday, Hattie worked silently in the Room of Requirement. Tom had gone to Hogsmeade with the other Slytherins in the year. Without Ada and Charlotte, Hattie had no desire to join. So she instead used her free time to catch up on school work and get a bit of peace and quiet with most of the school gone.

That night when Tom returned, he strode right into the Room of Requirement and leaned against the desk Hattie was seated in. She ignored him and he watched her until he decided he'd spent enough time being ignored.

"Hattie," Tom grabbed the quill from her hand and flicked it across the room, ink streaming down as it flew.

"I'm working," Hattie held her hand out and another quill popped into existence and she continued her essay.

Tom watched her with so much distaste, Hattie couldn't help but sneak a tiny smile. A few moments later, Tom once again tossed her quill away.

They repeated this process a few more times until Tom had had enough. He growled and grabbed her under the legs and heaved her up into his arms bridal style.

"Tom," Hattie struggled and kicked until Tom dropped her on the couch. She bounced up and down on the cushions from the fall. Her heart raced from the sudden movement and close contact. "What is wrong with you?"

Tom sat down beside her and ripped a tiny box from his cloak. He held it out to her and Hattie was stunned into complete silence.

He'd gotten her a gift.

The shock on her face made Tom smirk like there was a joke she was missing. A petty and arrogant sector of her mind wondered how Tom could afford to get her anything at all. To her knowledge, orphans didn't have money.

"Is it cursed?" Hattie said. Tom shook his head.

"Is it going to hurt me?" Again, a head shake.

Hattie rolled her eyes and ripped the cover off, discarding it on the floor beside them. A gold instrument lay on a rumpled satin cushion. A light ticking filled the air when Hattie opened the box and she pulled out a miniature golden watch.

"It's charmed to heat up ten minutes before prefect duties," Tom said, admiring his handiwork. "I've noticed you enjoy making me wait for you before we begin rounds and I figured I would make this easier on you since you seem to struggle with telling time."

Hattie snatched it out of his hand and shoved it in her cloak pocket, muting the ticking.

"Thank you, Tom," Hattie smiled like an innocent child on Christmas morning, a plan already brewing in her mind. She wasn't going to take that one lying down, but she gave him a toothy grin and ran a hand through his hair.

Tom suddenly frowned, disconcerted by her immediate acceptable of his gift.

"What are you planning," Tom said quickly, grabbing Hattie's hand and pulling it out of his hair. He yearned to get in her head but stayed true to their agreement he wouldn't try. He settled on searching every bit of movement in her face to figure it out. He couldn't glean anything from her expression. But he knew this wasn't the end of it.

"I have no idea what you mean," Hattie twisted her wrist to break free from Riddle's grasp and collected her things. She leisurely cleaned her space and hummed as she went. "I'll carry your gift with me _everywhere_."

Hattie walked out of the Room of Requirement with Riddle looking after her like he'd never seen her before.


	14. An Unexpected Proposal

Drifting away in Tom's arms was simple as they sat uninterrupted that gloomy December morning. The clock struck half past six in the morning and Hattie realized she'd spent the night on the couch in the Room of Requirement with Tom. His presence became expected and surprisingly welcome. Nobody bothered her while she was with him. Especially not when he had a hand on her back or her arm in his.

Through this, Hattie learned how someone like Tom really lived. She'd never seen the level of deference people afforded him until she sat with him at every meal and in every class. It was disturbing and empowering simultaneously.

The looming draft of the Room of Requirement suspended around them but never intruded. Tom's fingers tangled in the fabric at her waist, tugging at her sweater. Hattie shot him a discerning glance met with a cool smile and raised eyebrow. She blinked feeling from her eyes and plucked a book from her bag she didn't think was suspicious.

Tom grasped tight against her side and pulled her flush against him. She shot him a wide eyed look and followed his gaze down from her eyes to the book.

"Learning anything beyond the standard curriculum?" Tom teased.

"Possibly," Hattie leaned her head away and to the side as Tom rested his forehead against her hair. She hadn't cleaned it in a few days and jerked away at the realization. She'd been so focused on her task, other things were slipping. Like remembering to wash her hair in the shower. Ada would have had something to say about it, she was certain. As much as Ada rebelled against her pureblood upbringing, she was as much a product of her training as anybody else. Especially in regards to proper grooming. Then she remembered that there wasn't anything to be said to Ada, at least not right now.

For a fleeting moment, Tom questioned himself. He watched, weary as Hattie jerked away and curled in on herself. His natural inclination was to rip the book from her hands and demand she explain herself. But that tactic failed miserably the past few months. Instead, Tom leaned away to grab a book himself from his bag but retained a gentle hold on her side. She tensed and it frustrated him that he failed at being a calming presence. If he wanted to get anything out of her, making her comfortable was his first task. Making her uncomfortable had yielded nothing except make her bolder in her attempt to do the same to him.

"Hattie," Tom said with a silky smooth drawl. She tilted her head just enough to convey she was listening. "I'd like to discuss something with you."

Hattie nodded for him to continue.

"I'm aware of the rumors." Tom looked down at her for her reaction.

"Everybody is," Hattie said icily. The dread of Tom finding out and confronting her had been building. This would be an unpleasant conversation if he believed she started them. "They'll disappear eventually. Just ignore them."

"Actually, darling, I think it's unwise to refute them considering how often we're together." Tom tugged absently at Hattie's hair. It had gotten so long it was falling over his hand at her side. He considered saying something but figured it best not to comment negatively on her appearance.

"You want us to feign an engagement?" Hattie gaped, looking towards the wall where the door would materialize and then to the floor near Tom. Making eye contact with him seemed like an insurmountable task.

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't serious. It wouldn't be fake," Tom said with uncharacteristic softness. "And if we're to build any kind of relationship, I should behave appropriately around our peers."

"Should?" Hattie swallowed, knowing every word from Tom's lips was intentional and she needed to confirm in no uncertain terms exactly what he meant by every utterance and each intricate inflection.

" _Will_ ," Tom rapidly corrected, mindful to control his temper over her challenge. "I don't aim to ruin your reputation, only bolster it."

In a sudden burst of courage, Hattie snapped her head his direction. She rolled her shoulders back, bringing her height up as close to his as possible.

"Of course you will," She looked Tom up and down and pursed her lips as aristocratically as she could muster in her disheveled state. "I'm a Selwyn and I expect it. Unfortunately my father isn't here to beat that into you."

The refined venom in her voice was a spitting image of her father and Hattie's lungs toppled through her stomach realizing the resemblance blooming every day. She was tumbling a step farther away from her mother with each passing breath. Like a tug-of-war dragging her deeper and deeper into the darkness no matter how hard she dug her feet into the earth.

Hattie's pulse pumped hard as she stared him down. What Tom proposed was dangerous and near irreversible. But she knew she struck galleons invoking her family name. In a way she couldn't describe, it disgusted her to do it. There was nothing honorable in being a Selwyn. Their odd, reclusive habits and uncouth political leanings tended to alienate them to a certain extent. But money spoke more effectively than she ever could and many of their oddities were overlooked because of it. Invoking her name was always a last resort. Though, the light in Tom's eyes that flickered when she said something to his liking was intoxicating, lessening her uneasiness using her name.

 _Whatever it takes_ , Hattie reminded herself. To slow her speeding pulse she clutched at her wrist but the pressure only drove it faster.

"Making demands already?" Tom said casually. "How quickly you forget your promises."

"You can lead me wherever you like but I will always choose whether or not to follow," Hattie was suddenly regretting her brash statement of loyalty earlier in the year. "I'll remind you daily, so you don't forget."

"I don't forget anything said by people of consequence," Tom looked down at his book and flipped to find his page. "Though I may choose to - alter it how I see fit."

"You alter my words for your own gain and I'll hang you by your toes from Gryffindor Tower," Hattie flipped the pages of her book, mocking his over exaggerated casual demeanor. Every shred of logic implored her to believe Tom was just as terrified of this arrangement as her. But there was something lingering in his even breath and unaffected speech that told her otherwise. "Or would you prefer the Quidditch Pitch?"

"I'm not fond of either," Tom dragged his hand from her side to her mid back; Adhering to his pronouncement that everything between them would be done properly. But when she gently threatened him, he ached for something. A woman from a powerful wizarding family sitting with him now, giving him recognition when the customs of the day dictated she reject him over his murky parentage was desperately alluring. On the same thread, by all measures he could surmise, Hattie had nothing to gain from aligning herself with him. And that concerned him.

It wasn't difficult with the men. They were easy to gain, collect. His Knights were brash young men, stifled by dinner parties and political rallies. Their well of anger and discontent was easy to siphon.

The women were different.

They threw themselves at him but he wasn't a long-term influence. They whispered things and quietly mocked his no-name, orphaned childhood. Eventually the women would all marry family assigned men, many being his Knights themselves, and would forget what control Tom ever had over them. He would influence them by proxy, through their husbands over the coming decades.

But Hattie seemed to be one of the few women who disregarded his history completely. Never once had he heard her make a snide comment whispered between classes when they thought nobody would overhear. Nor did she throw herself at him, unfortunately.

Tom knew Hattie understood the promise he just made her. She wasn't ignorant, willfully or unknowingly. She agreed to give herself in the most influential way a woman could. Once it went public as more than a bit of gossip, there was no return. But at this point it was nearly moot. The student body was certain they were already engaged. He'd even heard the pureblood adults began playing their cards, readjusting strategies without Hattie in the potential marriage pool. Their engagement was as good as sealed before they mutually considered it. The rumor mill ensured that.

Tom thought long about this decision, gathering as much information as possible before deciding. It began when the rumors did. Hattie was wealthy and hailed from one of the few respected wizarding families remaining in their watered down community. She was also presumably in control of her family's fortune since no other Selwyns existed. Not unlike himself in the Slytherin line.

None of his Knights would have unlimited monetary access until their parents died. Unfortunately killing them all was more suspicious than he would like. Deep in the recesses of his repressed mind, Tom knew that he could find any woman with money. But he didn't want _them_.

"I assume I'll meet your Aunt and Uncle over Christmas?" Tom's voice was calculatingly calm. "To ask permission."

Hattie's throat constricted at the thought of charming Tom Riddle sitting with her only family in their home; The only place she had left to call her own, discussing a fate she had fallen into unwillingly. Then there was the issue of convincing her family that there was something sincere about their relationship. How could there not be in her family's eyes? Her Aunt always said: Young adults don't choose logical, emotionless matches. They would choose amicability and possibly love over anything else if given the opportunity. Their relationship had to be convincing. Hattie took a haggard breath a pulled her hand away from her reddened wrist.

"It's only right," Hattie looked down at her book. "My Aunt will be so charmed by your looks and academic success she might overlook your heritage." It wasn't meant to be soulless. It was simply a fact.

Bringing home a half-blooded wizard would shock Hattie's family. While her Aunt may be immediately charmed, she doubted her Uncle would feel the same. Even with Tom's promise and regard among the other Slytherin students. If only she knew something about him she could use to assure her family he was going places. But from everything she'd seen in the coming decades, he looked as if he died one day without accomplishing a damn thing. "At least we can be certain we aren't cousins."

Tom let out a quick breath of air which satisfied Hattie. It danced between relief and amusement.

"I'll write them closer to the holiday," Hattie said. "To warn them about perfect, prefect Tom Riddle."

"Warn them?" Tom sounded incredulous, as if meeting him was an extensive honor.

"Tom," Hattie leaned into his hand against her back. "No amount of warning can save them from you."

The smug look returned and Tom turned back to his book, perfectly content.

* * *

Hattie lingered outside Dumbledore's office for a quarter hour before rousing courage to knock.

It creaked open and she walked inside. It still felt strange reporting to Dumbledore. She had done so as minimally as possible, but he was a persistent man. Hours after her conversation with Tom, she'd received a letter from Dumbledore requesting they have tea.

"Professor," Hattie swallowed as he motioned for her to join him at their usual spot by the fire. The possibility of telling him about her and Tom nauseated her. In what world did a woman tell her Professor of her impending engagement before her family was even aware?

"Hattie," Dumbledore smiled in the way he always did around her. The distrusting smile that never reached his eyes. "Join me over here if you'd be so kind."

She nodded and rushed to the chair to sit. Her legs quivered and she was grateful for the respite.

"I'm positive you know what I'm about to say. You wouldn't have invited me here otherwise. But I'm telling you anyways to get it out as soon as possible," Hattie swallowed and waited for a response from Dumbledore. He gave her none and so she hurriedly continued. "I'm engaged to Tom."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, evidently surprised by the pronouncement. "That's a very serious, long lasting decision."

"I know," Hattie said weakly. It was then she realized it wasn't only her legs shaking. Her hands rattled in her lap like she sat naked in a snowbank. She pulled her legs up to her chest and dropped her head between her knees. "What did I do, Professor?" Her voice came out garbled from behind her robes.

Dumbledore hummed and tapped his fingertips together in thought. "I'm afraid I'm completely at fault." He was suddenly grave as she'd ever seen him. "I failed to warn you of the extent of his manipulation. I should have known he would try something like this. I sincerely apologize."

Hattie turned her head to look out from between her knees. Her eyes were wet and she rubbed the tears away with her robe.

"It's not your fault, sir," Hattie looked past Dumbledore to the far wall overflowing with books. "You couldn't have known and I could have said no. I should have fought it harder. But I didn't." She coughed away the lump forming in her throat. "I didn't want to, more specifically."

"You've developed a fondness for him," Dumbledore said sympathetically. "I certainly can't fault you for that. But I pushed this task on you during a difficult time in your life. I gave you the stipulation that you'd discover Mr. Riddle's plans by any means necessary. Admittedly, I didn't consider it would tether you to him forever."

The idea of being tethered to Tom formed acute, contradictory pain in her heart, like it was bursting and shattering simultaneously.

"You should stop," Dumbledore poured a steaming cup of tea and pushed it towards Hattie who waved it away limply. "I'll find another way. Go back to Tom and tell him you've changed your mind. Nobody need know any of this happened this term."

"You know I can't do that," Hattie said angrily. "It doesn't work that way with Tom. He'll follow me to the ends of the earth if he doesn't get what he wants. I'm not safe from him if I'm not with him. I know what he can do to people. What he has done to people."

"And what he wants is you?" Dumbledore asked quizzically.

"Of course not," Hattie dropped her legs and laid back in the chair, looking up to the vaulted ceiling. "He wants what I have. He's penniless. I have vaults of gold. He's half-blooded. I'm pure blooded with excellent family connections. And he knows I have something nobody else does."

Dumbledore's eyes widened in concern. He looked ages older when he frowned. It exacerbated his wrinkles.

"No," Hattie shook her head. "Tom doesn't know specifically. He just knows it's valuable. He's known something was going on for a year now. He just sat on the information for most of that time."

"Has he spoken with your family?"

"Not yet," Hattie gave in, reaching for the steaming tea, willing it to take her troubles away. "I'm taking him with me over the holiday."

"You're Aunt and Uncle agreed?" Dumbledore grabbed a piece of parchment on his side table next to his chair and started writing in a brilliant, delicate script.

"I haven't yet told them," Hattie said, watching her professor write. "What are you doing?"

"I'm writing to your family." Dumbledore said finally. He took a few moments and wrote two separate letters. Hattie sat silently, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. It was getting small on her. She would need a new one soon.

When the scratch of quill on parchment disappeared Hattie looked up and saw Dumbledore reading over his letters.

"If, Hattie," Dumbledore started. "You believe yourself safest from Tom at his side, then I will do everything in my power to secure your safety. It's my responsibility."

He handed Hattie his letters and scanned them closely. One was a letter to her family. The other was a note to a woman whose name Hattie didn't recognize. She thought it better not to ask about the woman and handed him back the letters.

The letters were a strange and chilling site. The note to her family mentioned Tom as a respectable and brilliant student with a promising future. It also mentioned Tom was wonderful to Hattie after her mother's passing and helped keep her on track.

Lies.

Hattie knew Dumbledore was abusing the respect her family had for him by pushing Tom on them. But she also knew he was disgusted to do it and was really looking out for her safety even if he didn't fully trust her.

"I think this will help, sir," Hattie said. "My Aunt will be smitten but you and I both know my Uncle won't be fooled so easily. Affirmation from you might be enough to turn him on our side."

"I certainly hope so," Dumbledore nursed a new cup of tea. "I'd like to move on to why I invited you here."

"Of course."

"Is there anything you'd like to share with me about the letter from your Aunt?"

Hattie's blood chilled. She most certainly didn't want to share any of the personal information from that letter. But something needed to be said to satisfy Dumbledore. Hattie settled on mention of the meaningless notes on Tom her Aunt found.

"My mother did have something about Tom," Hattie picked her words carefully. "But it was almost nothing. It was just a word. _Ring_."

"And you think she was alluding to the situation you now find yourself in?"

"I can't figure any other meaning," Hattie felt cold, even with warm tea tickling her throat. "I don't think Tom already has a ring, I've never noticed him wearing one."

"Neither have I," Dumbledore said. "Maybe it's best if we focus on getting you safely through term. We can decode secret messages after this tumultuous situation settles."


	15. Dangerous Things

"Hattie," Charlotte crept over to her four poster and bend over her face. She shook her shoulder and Hattie flew up in bed with a shriek. "Be quiet!"

Charlotte covered Hattie's mouth with her hand. "Shush, Hattie."

Hattie's chest heaved from the shock of being jostled awake. She swatted Charlotte away and took a soothing breath, grasping for the time turner at her throat.

"You scared me," Hattie whispered. Waves of exhaustion washed over her. She'd been up late with Tom after their rounds. According to the clock at her bedside, she'd only been asleep half an hour.

"Sorry," Charlotte apologized hurriedly. The floor creaked under her as she tiptoed to the door. Hattie stayed where she was, still breathing hard. "Come on." She motioned for Hattie to follow.

Hattie looked around the room. Everybody else was asleep. The room was silent minus the sounds of sleep and movement of covers. Hattie grabbed her wand and hopped off the bed and followed Charlotte into the Common Room.

"What?" Hattie rubbed her tired eyes when the reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Not here," Charlotte looked panicked, running her hands through her hair, eyes wide. "Let's find a classroom or something."

"Sure." Relief flooded Hattie. Something about being here with Charlotte relaxed her.

They walked into the pitch black halls until the torches erupted to life in their presence. Charlotte jumped and Hattie grabbed her arm supportively. Hattie gripped her wand at her side and shot glances every few minutes behind them. Something in the back of her mind told her Tom could be following them. That man missed nothing.

They walked in silent camaraderie until they found a classroom on the first floor. Charlotte pushed Hattie in the room and shut the door behind them with a click. The sprawling windows welcomed in the cold December night. Frost touched the room, mixing with the dust creating a murky brown coat on every surface.

" _Silencio_ ," Hattie waved her wand. She also silently locked the door, hoping they could be forewarned if somebody had followed at their tail.

Charlotte thanked her and they just looked at one another with lingering questions on the tip of their tongues. It had been months since they'd properly spoken and an acute awkwardness shrouded their interaction.

"What's going on?" Hattie finally broke the silence and hoped she didn't sound too crass. The fact that Charlotte was even talking to her was a relief. Unfortunately it didn't sound like she was about to have a pleasant conversation.

"I'm telling you this as your friend and you'll listen that way," Charlotte held a hand out for Hattie which she took immediately. Her lip trembled at the thought of sharing her information with Hattie, especially if she took it the wrong way. "I'm not telling you this in your prefect role."

"Charlotte -," Hattie's mouth fell open as she struggled finding words.

"Just listen," Charlotte cut in. "Something's happening."

"A lot of things happen every day," Hattie snapped. Being short with Charlotte was easy, she was too easy a target and it sounded to Hattie like Charlotte was only speaking to her because she wanted her to do something for her. Maybe save her from some half-inconvenience like she'd done in the past.

"That's not what I mean," Charlotte bit her lip and pulled her hand away from Hattie's to rub at her reddened eyes. "I've been hearing things I shouldn't. Nott and Lestrange and Malfoy. They whisper things. They talk in codes they think we can't understand. I've spent more time with them this past month than I have my entire life. Something's happening and they know what it is. And I don't think it's good."

"What makes you think that?" Hattie's skin prickled at this sudden revelation. This clearly wasn't a minor inconvenience.

"Nott is a good person," Charlotte started and held her hand up to stop any interruption by Hattie. "He told me yesterday that I need to be very careful these next few years. Go nowhere alone. 'Things are going to happen here,' he said. Dangerous things. He's scared. _I'm_ scared."

"Dangerous things?" Hattie walked up to Charlotte and cupped her face in her hands. Rubbing the tears from under her eyes, Hattie sighed and took the bait. "What's happening?"

"I don't know and Ada won't listen to me," Charlotte shifted her weight. "I don't like Lestrange. She isn't thinking anymore and I think it's his fault. He asks a lot of questions."

"Never mind the fact he's putting her in an awful position," Hattie bit her cheek in anger. She'd heard horrible things about Lestrange. But since she wasn't speaking with Ada, there wasn't an easy way to stop whatever was going on.

"See, that's the thing that confuses me," Charlotte clapped her hands together. "They seem to genuinely like each other. But I think he's trying to get information out of her too."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Hattie sighed. "Are they trying to get anything out of you?"

"Nothing," Charlotte's forehead crinkled in thought.

Hattie mulled over her next comment before deciding to go right for the thought nagging her since the beginning of their conversation.

"Is Tom involved?" Hattie asked with a faux casual tone that probably gave away a lot more than intended.

"No," Charlotte said confidently. "They always stop talking about it when he arrives and they've never mentioned him."

"So you think this is something they're doing without his permission?" Hattie scrunched her nose, considering why they'd act outside of Tom's orders. She decided to confirm with him what role his little friends really played in his life. But she wasn't idiotic enough to mention she knew they were acting outside his guidance. That would put Charlotte and Ada in danger.

"Permission?' Charlotte looked confused at the specific word. "Why would they need his permission?"

Hattie stuttered for a moment before recovering.

"A bad choice of words," Hattie nodded, encouraging Charlotte to do the same, like it would confirm Charlotte agreed. Her friend finally nodded but a look of distrust lingered in her eyes. She clearly understood there was more to what Hattie told her.

Hattie's face set and she swallowed. Changing the subject was essential.

"I have something to show you." Something needed to be done to get Charlotte's mind off Hattie's slip. And it was growing rapidly clearer that Hattie needed to be involved with Charlotte and Ada's lives lest something horrific happen to them. If Nott was correct and terrible things were soon to happen, Hattie wouldn't let her friends face it alone. That meant giving them something worthwhile to regain their trust.

"I don't know -," Charlotte started.

"Shut up and listen before I change my mind," Hattie breathed deep and closed her eyes to compose herself. "Remember how I started getting sick after my mother died? How I ended up in weird places at weird times?"

"Of course," Charlotte said with a furrowed brow, obviously recalling those specific times.

"You can't repeat what I'm about to tell you to anybody, especially not Ada," Hattie clasped her hands on Charlotte shoulders who nodded in agreement. Hattie dropped her head and pulled the time turner from under her sleep clothes. It twinkled in the moonlight and spun lazily in circles as Hattie dangled it before Charlotte.

Charlotte gasped and stumbled backwards, out of Hattie's arms.

"Hattie," she said in wonderment. "Is that a time turner?"

Hattie nodded and took it off her neck to hand it to her friend. Charlotte gripped it delicately with her fingertips, fearing causing it any harm.

"Where did you get it?" Charlotte put it up to her eye to admire the minuscule hourglass. The dust and frost in the air seemed repelled by the contraption, like it refused to touch something as inconsequential as dirt.

Hattie's throat constricted, realizing she'd never seen it dirty. Not once had it required cleaning and it sparkled like new even after having it almost a year and a half. Not a single nick or scratch tainted the immaculate gilt surface.

"It's been in my family for ages," Hattie whispered as Charlotte admired the device. "It was willed to me when Mum died."

"You're using it!" A mischievous smile grew on Charlotte's face until it was a full blown grin. "I can't believe you. These things are so rare!" She was practically jumping up and down with excitement which sobered Hattie.

"Charlotte," Hattie waved her hand in her face to regain her attention. "This isn't a random family heirloom. This is how my family makes money."

Hattie recalled the first time her father explained the device to her. He told her it was a tool; Nothing to get attached to. But seeing it in the hands of a Prewett filled Hattie with a sense of betrayal and dread. It wasn't meant to be there. It was _hers_ and hers alone.

"I don't understand," Charlotte took the time turner and threw the chain over her neck. Charlotte was much shorter than Hattie and the time turner fell down to her waist level. Hattie's teeth ached with the pressure of maintaining her composure. She couldn't scare Charlotte away.

"My family has invested in everything imaginable for generations. We log future events and use that information to make money," Hattie grabbed Charlotte's hand that was wavering near the knob. "Careful."

Hattie never once let anybody else work the time turner and she wasn't about to begin. If Charlotte operated it without knowing how, it could be disastrous. For all she knew it was cursed to reject anybody but a proper Selwyn.

"Sorry," Charlotte mumbled. She pulled the chain from around her neck and it caught in her hair. With a bit of tugging, she handed it back to Hattie. "Can we try it?"

"Absolutely not," Hattie tossed it back over her head and hid it under her blouse. "I've never taken anybody with me. I have no idea how you'll react. What if we get separated? What if you get sick like me?"

"That's where your illness comes from?" Charlotte grimaced at the spot under Hattie's shirt where the time turner lay, suddenly disgusted with it.

"Unfortunately," Hattie grabbed the closest pair of chairs and shoved the spare at Charlotte. "You can't tell a soul."

"I won't, you know that," Charlotte frowned and dropped into the chair facing Hattie. "I just want to know why you didn't tell me sooner." There was a crackling in Charlotte's voice. She was more concerned Hattie hadn't told them than the fact Hattie harbored an illegal, life in Azkaban level device in the castle.

"It would put you at risk," Hattie said softly. "I couldn't do that to you."

Charlotte wanted to put up a fight but thought better of it. She was just now talking with Hattie again.

"Fine," Charlotte dropped her hands in her lap and leaned back onto the hind legs of the chair. "I trust you have good reason. I just wish you'd told us a year ago."

"I'm sorry," Hattie swallowed and fiddled with the time turner chain. "I was just the only thing I had left of my mother and I wanted it to me mine alone."

"Oh," Charlotte looked past Hattie's head towards the wall on the other side of the room. "That makes sense."

Hattie cleared her throat and watched Charlotte for a moment. She didn't look well. How had she not noticed? There were dark, veiny bags under her eyes and her shoulders sagged forward with a sense of despair. Something switched off the light in Charlotte.

"Are you alright?" Hattie said, speaking in the broad sense of the word, which Charlotte picked up on.

"No," Charlotte dropped her head into her hands. "Everything's falling apart."

"Since when?" Hattie moved from her chair to crouch in front of Charlotte. She put her hands on Charlotte's knees for support. Clearly she had missed something drastic since her mother passed. How had she not noticed how much pain Charlotte was in?

"Summer," Charlotte covered Hattie's hands with her own. "My grades are slipping and I can't keep up. My grandma's ill with Dragon Pox and my parents are talking with the Bellchants and Ada has no idea."

" _Talking_ ," Hattie enunciated, mulling over the meaning behind the word. Then it hit her. "They're trying to marry you off to Andrew?" There was nothing inherently wrong with Andrew in Hattie's mind but he didn't seem to be Charlotte's type.

Charlotte didn't respond. Instead, she devolved into hacking sobs on Hattie's shoulder. Blond hair tangled in brown and Hattie cried for the second time in a month. In that moment, Hattie felt like the most self-involved bitch she'd ever encountered. Maybe Ogden was right about her. What kind of friend was she that she couldn't tell for _months_ that Charlotte was in gut-wrenching pain?

"I'm so sorry I didn't notice," Hattie said between sobs. "I don't know what's wrong with me. We'll find a way around this Andrew thing. And I'll help you with your studies. I'm not letting you fail."

Charlotte wrapped her arms around Hattie's shoulders and continued to cry into her neck. Hattie didn't let go and sat on the floor long after her legs had gone numb.

"You know we can't tell Ada," Hattie whispered long after the tears had ended. "If you think Lestrange wants information from her, we can't risk it."

"I don't know -," Charlotte sighed.

"We can't be sure so we have to stay quiet," Hattie said sharply. "Even if that means she'll stay angry with me. I'm not going to put her and us at risk."

They fell silent, mulling over the implications of keeping this from Adalina. Neither voiced any further discontent. Hattie stood and ran her hand down Charlotte's hair like her mother did in times of duress.

"I have something else I need to tell you," Hattie said. Charlotte looked up at her with a bright, knowing grin. She stood and grabbed Hattie's arms to keep her from running away.

"Is it about a certain Slytherin prefect?" Charlotte was practically jumping up and down. Her eyes were wide and bright. Nobody could have guessed they weren't speaking just a few hours ago.

"Yes," Hattie said between gritted teeth, furious it was so obvious.

"To use Ada's words: You harlot!" Charlotte shook Hattie's arms and pushed her in the chair. Hattie stumbled back into the seat and rolled her eyes. "Tell me everything."

"Well," Hattie tapped her finger against her chin, drawing it out as long as possible. "Tom is coming back to France with me over the holiday to ask my Aunt and Uncle permission -"

"To marry you?" Charlotte shrieked. It echoed through the room and Hattie chuckled despite herself. "I knew it! Nott owes me five galleons."

"You _bet_ on my relationship with Tom?" Hattie smacked Charlotte playfully, caught in her friend's joy. "I can't believe you."

"Just because we weren't talking didn't mean I wasn't paying attention," Charlotte smirked and crossed her arms triumphantly. "Hattie Riddle sounds wonderful, doesn't it?"

Hattie was hit by a wave of dread. It most certainly didn't sound wonderful. The air was ripped from her lungs and her face paled. Charlotte noticed the sudden change in demeanor and quickly apologized for getting out of hand.

"I'm just a bit overwhelmed," Hattie whispered as Charlotte circled a comforting hand on her back.

"I'd imagine it's a bit stressful asking for your family's permission," Charlotte said. "And the getting married thing too, I guess."

"Something along those lines, yes," Hattie agreed.

"He's so brilliant he could be Minister one day!" Charlotte was once again lost in thought about what she perceived to be Hattie and Tom's very real relationship. "Imagine that."

"I doubt it," Hattie said under her breath, looking away from Charlotte's eyes, knowing if they met, the truth would break free and everything would fall to ruin.

* * *

The secret got out. By the following Friday the entire school believed they'd been correct all along about Hattie and Tom. Charlotte swore she only told Nott but it appeared that had done it. Hattie was suddenly feeling uncomfortable having shared the time turner information with Charlotte but she hoped her friend would take her secret seriously. If not, maybe she could see if Tom could obliviate Charlotte. But that would require she explain her situation to him.

The Slug Club had been in full swing and Hattie was irate that she still hadn't received an invitation to join. It was only men at the moment but Hattie knew she was worth ten of every man there, except perhaps Tom. So it was a shock when Tom requested she join him for the Slug Club Christmas party the weekend before the holidays began.

Tom sat down beside her at dinner a few days before the event. He gave Hattie a fiery look and made sure everybody around them heard.

"Hattie, darling," Tom placed a hand on her back as usual and she looked over at him, along with everybody else in the vicinity. She'd recently learned Tom only used 'darling' when he wanted something or had something of consequence to say.

He angled to face her ever so slightly, enough that his knee grazed her own, eliciting a small shock through her body.

Charlotte looked up from her stew and Adalina pretended to focus on her meal but stole glances in Tom and Hattie's direction.

"I'd like you to join me at Slughorn's on Friday." Tom looked down at her with his shy demeanor he often showed the world, knowing he was working the people around him as much as her. Nearly the entire table listened to their conversation. Tom rarely spoke at meals and knew doing so would draw attention. "It's a formal event but I'm sure you have something stunning, even on short notice."

Hattie gave him a cool look but felt the flush in her cheeks. Tom was so charming when he turned it on that she was breathless. His fingers played lightly in her jumper around her lower back. The teasing contact drove her mad.

"Of course," Hattie parted her lips to speak again but found herself strapped for words. If she continued, she was going to stutter or mumble. It felt like everybody around them disappeared. She could only focus on Tom and the way he tortured her with his touch.

"Wonderful," Tom dragged his hand across her back and fastened his hand in hers. He leaned in close to her ear so only she could understand. "I'm sure you'll wear something that won't disappoint me."

Hattie swallowed as his breath hit her neck and their arms melded together at her side. Collecting herself was more difficult every time this sort of contact happened. The electricity between them dragged her in and shocked her system so deeply she wasn't sure she'd make it out of Hogwarts sane. She was probably losing it already. Adding Tom in the mix was a recipe for disaster.

"Should I wear something that'll put both our reputations in jeopardy?" Hattie considered her dress options. She had a few her Aunt could send before Friday and she knew exactly which one. "You won't be able to keep your hands off me. What will you do then, Tom Riddle?" The redness in her cheeks burned every layer of her skin but she persisted since she couldn't give him the upper hand in every interaction.

Tom released a breath of air and Hattie swelled with pride that she'd caught him off guard, even if he would never admit it. It probably looked to everybody else like Tom was being his temperate, shy self. But she knew the truth and that was enough for her.

Tom ignored Hattie's comment completely, instead focusing on the food in front of him.


End file.
